Iranica Varia: Papers in Honor of Professor Ehsan Yarshater 906831226X, 9789068312263

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ACTA IRANICA ENCYCLOPÉDIE PERMANENTE DES ÉTUDES IRANIENNES

TROISIÈME SÉRIE VOEUME

IRANICA

XVI

VARIA:

PAPERS IN HONOR OF PROFESSOR EHSAN YARSHATER

Acta Iranica Encyclopédie permanente des Etudes Iraniennes Troisième Série —

IRANICA

Volume XVI

VARIA:

PAPERS IN HONOR PROFESSOR

EHSAN

OF YARSHATER DE

La couverture représente une partie de l'inscription inferieure du tombeau de Darius, dans la version de Xerxès

découverte en 1967 près de Persépolis. (Photo

Walther

Hinz,

comme

dans

/ranische

Funde

und

ACTA IRANICA TROISIÈME SÉRIE

VOLUME XVI

ACTA IRANICA PUBLIÉE

ENCYCLOPÉDIE PERMANENTE DES: ÉTUDES IRANIENNES PAR LE CENTRE INTERNATIONAL D‘ETUDES INDO—IRANIENNES

TROISIEME SERIE

TEXTES ET MEMOIRES

Acta Iranica 30

DIFFUSION E.J. BRILL LEIDEN

TEXTES ET MÉMOIRES VOLUME

IRANICA

XVI

VARIA:

PAPERS IN HONOR OF PROFESSOR EHSAN YARSHATER

1990 DIFFUSION EA BRIE LEIDEN

CENTRE

INTERNATIONAL

D’ETUDES INDO—IRANIENNES

COMITÉ INTERNATIONAL Prof. Prof.

CHAND

Jes

Prof.

Prof.

Ednan

(Danemark);

CAMERON

(Inde);

(Belgique); Prof.

ASMUSSEN

George

Erzi

(E.-U.);

Henry

Namio

CORBIN

EGAMI

(Turquie);

Prof.

Sir

S. E. Prof.

(Grande-Bretagne); (Italie);

Prof.

Jacques

DUCHESNE-GUILLEMIN

Dr.

Wilhelm

Prof.

Richard

BaAILEY CERULLI

(France):

(Japon);

fProf.

Harold Enrico

ETTINGHAUSEN

EILERS (E.-U.);

ŸS.

E. Tara

(Allemagne); Acad.

B.G. GAFUROV (U.R.S.S.); Prof. Roman GHIRSHMAN (France); Ph. GIGNoux (France); Gh. GNOLI (Italie); S. E. Garcia Gomez (Espagne); Prof. Janos HARMATTA (Hongrie); Prof. Dr. Walther Hınz (Allemagne); Prof. Karl HOFFMANN (Allemagne); Prof. Dr. Helmut HUMBACH (Allemagne); Prof. Yahya AL-KHASHAB (Egypte); S. Em. Cardinal Dr. Franz KÔNIG (Autriche); Prof. Gilbert LAZARD (France); Prof. Dr. Manfred MAYRHOFER (Autriche); Prof. Georg MORGENSTIERNE (Norvège); Prof. Henrik S. NYBERG (Suede); Pir Husamuddin

Rasupi (Pakistan); Prof. Georges REDARD (Suisse);

Prof.

Prof.

Admad

TArAZZoLIı

(Iran);

Louis

VANDEN

BERGHE

(Belgique);

Geo WIDENGREN (Suede).

COMITE DIRECTEUR Sous la Présidence de M. Herman LIEBAERS, Commissaire royal à la restructuration des établissements scientifiques nationaux, Conservateur-en-chef honoraire de la Bibliothèque Royale Albert I“, Grand Maréchal honoraire de la Cour. Jacques DUCHESNE-GUILLEMIN, professeur émérite de l’Université de Liege. G.H. DUMONT, Secrétaire général de la commission nationale de l'Unesco. André Mo itor, Professeur émérite de l’Université Catholique de Louvain-la-Neuve. Julien Ries, Professeur émérite de la même Université.

Louis VANDEN BERGHE, Professeur à la Rijksuniversiteit, Gent.

RÉDACTION Jacques DUCHESNE-GUILLEMIN, professeur émérite de l’Université de Liège. Pierre LECOQ, chargé de recherches au CNRS

(Paris).

Université de Liège, Place du 20 août 32, B 4000 Liège.

ISBN 90-6831-226-X © 1990 by Centre International d'Études Indo-iraniennes

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or translated in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, microfiche or any other means without written permission from the publisher

PRINTED IN BELGIUM D. 1990/0602/17

Prof.

TABLE DES MATIÈRES Preface . : Foreword, Mary does ene Goan Gast The Publications of Ehsan YARSHATER .

Jes P. ASMUSSEN, Simury in Judeo-Persian translations of the Hebrew Bible . Harold W. BAILEY, /ranian Ke! « IIS and Painted words À C. Edmund. BosworRTH, Al-Khwarazmi on various faiths and sects, chiefly Iranian. : Mary Boyce, Some further hs onen Jamsheed CHoKsy, Gesture in ancient Iran and Central Ai 1: the raised hand ; Jerome W. CLINTON, The story a Sa and Zal. d Hamid DABASHI, Who's who in Kelidar: society and solitude in the making of a character. eee a Muhammad DANDAMAYEV, The old ia Leet re ; Gerhard DOERFER, Tati Lehnworter in Chaladsch : Eckart EHLERS, The city of the Islamic Middle East — a einen geographer’s perspective. : Wilhelm EILERS, Neupersische guyyd Pile er Ronald E. EMMERICK, Two more Khotanese ghostwords Gherardo GNOLI, On Old Persian farnah. William HANAWAY, Alexander and the question of cn en

tity Kaikhusrow D. En aide ire — ade phic perspective Gilbert LAZARD, Le tente de Rudbär (Gilän = David N. MACKENZIE, Pahlavi compound abstracts : Wilferd MADELUNG, Abu Ya‘qub al-Sijistani and metempsychosis Ezzat O. NEGAHBAN, Silver vessel of Marlik with gold spout and impressed gold designs . Amnon NETZER, The story of the Prophet Sho a inShin s Musänämeh OR Franz ROSENTHAL, At-Tabari’s ene ena hes James R. Russet, Kartir and Mani: À shamanistic model of their conflict .

104 110 124 131 144

152 168

180

VI

TABLE DES MATIÈRES

Rüdiger SCHMITT, The name of Darius . Martin SCHWARTZ, ./ Waz and ,/Braz: «guest» ad « Poroialitys in Iranian . A. Shahpur eee On ie Xxae nämag : Shaul SHAKED, Do not Buy Anything from an Aramaean: A Fragment of Aramaic Proverbs] with a Judeo-Iranian Version . 4 < ANT Nicholas SIMS-WILLIAMS, ‘Old Poise TE cup . Bertold SPULER, Lenore Zsigmond TELEGDI, Humboldt De ch Bi nee chung : : Fridrick D on Old série accentuation. Fereidun VAHMAN and G.S. ASATRIAN, Gleanings PN Zaz vocabulary . : : G. Michael WICKENS, Relative er among en Bett a judgement by ‘Ali Dasti .

194 200 208

230 240 244 248 256 267 276

PREFACE The editors would like to gratefully thank Prods O. Skjaerve for his time, editorial assistance, and support. This volume has been prepared under the sponsorship of the Society for Iranian Studies (USA). Its publication has been made possible by the generous assistance and encouragement of: The Council of the Corpus Inscriptionum Iranicarum; Mr. and Mrs. M. Diba; Mr. and Mrs. A.T. Gregorian; Istituto Italiano per il Medio ed Estremo Oriente; Mr. and Mrs. H. Namazee;

an anonymous well-wisher. Our thanks to them all. D. AMIN M. KASHEFF

with A.Sh. SHAHBAZI

Maryam

Banihashem

Sachs; and

»

4 à € x te AL

4

Professor Ehsan Yarshater

FOREWORD Professor Ehsan Yarshater is an outstanding figure in Iranian studies, unique in his range of interests and achievements, and remarkable for the way in which he has joined profound devotion to Iran with scholarly objectivity, seeking always a balanced judgement and wide perspectives; a deeply cultivated scholar with a phenomenal capacity for work, who has sought tirelessly both to acquire knowledge and to disseminate it for the benefit of others. He was born on April 3, 1920 in Hamadan of a family which originated

in Kashan.

His

father,

a businessman,

had

a bent

for

learning, read widely and taught himself Arabic and Esperanto. His mother, a lady of great refinement, had a deep love of nature and the fine arts. She herself possessed a beautiful singing voice, and played the ney; and she inspired in her son a love of music and literature, and impressed on him also the need to study hard and become a useful member of society. But she died young, when he was only eleven, and his father a year later —a heavy double sorrow. He went then to live in Tehran with his maternal uncle, a well-known philanthropist whose benefactions included the building and endowing of the Mithaqiyya Hospital. Ehsan Yarshater’s schooling had been interrupted; but in 1934 he won a scholarship to the newly opened Normal School (Dänesh-sarä-ye Moqaddamati). There the teacher of Persian literature, Mohammad ‘Ali ‘Ameri, made a deep impression on him, and by encouraging him to memorize a great number of passages of excellent Persian poetry and prose, helped him to form his own pure and elegant style. From there a second scholarship took him to the Teachers’ College, Tehran University, where he studied Persian language and literature under such outstanding scholars as Ebrahim Pour-Davud, Mohammad

Taqi Bahar, Ahmad

Bahmanyar,

Badi‘ al-Zaman

Foru-

zanfar, Sayyid Kazem ‘Assar and ‘Abbas Egbal Ashtiyani. Following their courses gave him a deep knowledge of Iran’s literature and history, although looking back he came to regret the lack of teaching in other languages and literatures. This gap he worked hard to fill for himself in later years. In 1941 he obtained the degree of B.A. (Licence-es-Lettres), and began teaching at the ‘Elmiyya School in Tehran; and two years later

X

FOREWORD

he was appointed associate director of the Normal School there. While holding these posts he studied law, obtaining a second B.A. in that subject in 1944. He then proceeded with his literary studies under the supervision of ‘Ali Asghar Hekmat, and in 1947 was awarded a D. Litt. with distinction for a dissertation on “Persian poetry in the second half of the ninth century.” (This was published, with some revisions, in 19551.) He was then appointed Assistant Professor of Persian in the Faculty of Theology; but was awarded in the same year a fellowship by the British Council to study educational methods in England. When in London he called on W.B. Henning, and, swiftly appreciating the depth of his learning, resolved to abandon other plans and study pre-Islamic Iranian languages and culture with him. His interest in this field had already been awakened by Pour-Davud; but at that time the teaching available in it in Tehran was at an elementary level. He enrolled accordingly for one of the courses created by Henning at the School of Oriental and African Studies, London

University, in Old and Middle

Iranian; and years of exacting study followed, during which he had to add English and German to his knowledge of French, and to absorb analytic and critical methods of handling texts. In addition, he set himself, with energy and discernment, to learn all that he could of Western art and architecture, painting and music, using part of the vacations to travel in other European countries for this purpose. Henning himself was deeply interested at this time in the dialects of north-western Iran. In 1950 he had been able to make brief notes on one of them, to the south-west of Qazvin, and this, he thought, might prove to be a link in a long chain of related dialects, all in imminent danger of dying out?. The evidence was too scanty, however, for this to be then more than a well-reasoned piece of deduction. With Henning’s encouragement, Ehsan Yarshater determined to undertake the search for such dialects, and this developed into his scholarly lifework. With it he was to make a major contribution to Iranian linguistic studies, recording and analysing dialect after dialect of what he came to term the Tati-Taleshi groups, and gaining a rich store of knowledge that fully substantiated Henning’s brilliant but tentative surmise. His work was much appreciated by Henning himself, who over the years provided Ehsan Yarshater with “enriching advice, friendship and support.”3 In 1953 Ehsan Yarshater, having obtained the degree of M.A. by examination, returned to Iran to pursue this research; but there was much else there to claim his attention. He was at once appointed lecturer in ancient Iranian languages in the Faculty of Letters at Tehran

FOREWORD

XI

University, and assistant to Pour-Davud. Some excellent students attended his classes, and he is gratefully remembered by them, as by numerous generations of their successors, for the clarity and detail of his teaching, his patience and evenness of temper, and his concern for their progress. (Thus once, when a strike closed the university, he continued quietly giving his courses at his own home rather than let their work be interrupted.) His standards were exacting; and conscious, with his own phenomenal memory, of the advantages of storing knowledge in the mind, he required his students to combine analytical work with some learning by heart, including passages from Old Persian inscriptions. Ehsan Yarshater found time nevertheless to embark on the first of his many field trips to study dialects; and these were to be the most enjoyable of his many scholarly undertakings, combining as they did the intellectual pleasure of discovery with the keen delight of travel to remote parts of Iran and the exploration of village life and traditions. Such travel involved, however, a considerable measure of physical hardship and hours of exacting work, during which his informants were apt to flag long before he wished to release them. In 1956 the Societé de la dialectologie iranienne was founded, with G. Redard, G. Morgenstierne and E. Benveniste as active members; and Ehsan Yarshater, as

vice-president, was made responsible for supervising the recording of dialects throughout Iran. This blend of teaching, administrative duties and strenuous research would for most scholars have made up a full working life; but during his years in England Ehsan Yarshater had been forming plans to fill gaps which he had come to perceive in the cultural life of Iran; and in 1954 he took the major step of founding the Bongäh-e Tarjoma va Nashr-e Ketäb (Institute for the Translation and Publication of Books)*. Under his direction this was to make a massive contribution in the following decades to the intellectual life of the nation. Its primary aim was to have foreign works of recognized worth translated into Persian by scholars of repute, the translations to be carefully edited and accurately printed. In the long run it was hoped that the venture would be largely self-supporting, but Ehsan Yarshater obtained initial funding from the Crown Properties. This was the first instance of his ability, as a practical visionary and skilful, patient diplomat, to obtain financial support for a nobly conceived plan. The series of translations was inaugurated with five books published simultaneously in 1955, and others followed in rapid succession, to be swiftly bought up by an

XII

FOREWORD

appreciative readership. Although his own work lay in higher education, Ehsan Yarshater was deeply concerned with the intellectual development of children; and a year later he inaugurated three series of works for different age groups among the young, some of them translations, some original writings. These too were eagerly acquired. In 1957 he persuaded a number of scholars, notably among them Iraj Afshar, to join him in founding the Anjoman-e Ketäb (Book Society). Its purpose was to foster interest in good publications, and its main organ was the Rähnemä-ye Ketäb (Book Guide), which was launched by Ehsan Yarshater that same year as a quarterly journal, with Afshar and M. Mogarrabi as associate editors. From its second year it became a monthly journal, and was expanded to include as well as book reviews articles on Persian language and literature, accounts of rare manuscripts and, latterly, surveys of current research in Iranian studies. From 1965 Afshar was editor in charge, and under his direction annual bibliographies were published of Persian printed books. The Anjoman-e Ketäb also organized annual book exhibitions in Tehran, and sponsored exhibitions of Persian books abroad. With all this activity even Ehsan Yarshater was fully stretched, working as ash been his wont through much of his life, a twelve to fourteen hour day. Yet he managed during these years to write a number of learned and literary articles for the journals Yaghmä, Mehr and Sokhan, as well as for the Bulletin of the Faculty of Letters of Tehran University. One day, meeting him in the Senate Library, Habib Yaghma’i pressed him for another article for his journal; whereupon Ehsan Yarshater, characteristically unable to refuse a friend, sat down

and there and then wrote a piece which scholar” (Dänesmand-e mohtaram)°. This, article in Yaghmä, has been twice reprinted quoted as an admirable piece of satirical seriousness,

Ehsan

Yarshater

he called “The respected published as the leading in anthologies, and is often humour. For all his deep

has a rich vein of wit and humour,

is

quick to make or appreciate a jest, and breaks readily into warm, delightful laughter. Another striking facet of Ehsan Yarshater’s character is his apparently effortless calm and self-control, maintained in the teeth of all the harassments that inevitably beset a man who initiates far-reaching plans, and who in the course of fulfilling them has to persuade large numbers of people, with different temperaments and interests, to cooperate and be reasonable. With this calmness goes iron resolve, once a goal has been fixed upon, and enviable powers of concentration. These >

FOREWORD

XIII

struck even German scholars during a visit Ehsan Yarshater paid to Göttingen to study dialect materials there. While others came and went during the day, seeking refreshment, fresh air or relaxation, he sat on at

his library desk from early till late, oblivious alike of the outer world and the inner man, working with total absorption. During the academic year 1958/59 he visited Columbia University, New York, as associate professor; and Columbia showed appreciation of his teaching by extending its invitation for a second year. Back in Iran during the summer of 1959 Ehsan Yarshater inspired the founding of a lending library by the Anjoman-e Ketäb. This came to contain some 3000 books, mostly in the humanities, which people were actively encouraged to borrow, and for a time small mobile collections of books were sent to some of the poorer districts of Tehran, as well as to townships round about. When Ehsan Yarshater returned from Columbia in the summer of 1960, Pour-Davud had died, and he was appointed to succeed his former teacher as professor of Old Persian and Avestan. In that year he attended the International Congress of Orientalists in Moscow; and the oral examination was held there of his thesis on “The Tati dialect spoken to the south of Qazvin”, for which he was awarded a Ph.D. by

London University. The examiners were W.B. Henning, E. Benveniste and I. Gershevitch. In the following year Ehsan Yarshater had the happiness to marry Latifeh Alvieh. The two had become friends when he returned from his studies in England in 1953, and had come to discover much in common, notably a deep devotion to Iran and its culture, and an interest in education generally. Latifeh Alvieh was then acting as cultural advisor to the United States Information Agency in Tehran; and her voluntary work included organizing and directing summer camps for schools and university students, and the first youth conference in Iran. She was founder and president of the Shahnaz Girls’ Clubs, and a founding member of the National Council of the Women of Iran; and had represented various Iranian organisations at conferences in Germany, India, Ceylon and Turkey, as well as having studied for a year on a visiting fellowship in the United States of America. After their marriage she and Ehsan Yarshater, as well as pursuing their own separate but complementary activities, created together a gracious and profoundly civilised home-life, dispensing a generous hospitality

which many were to enjoy over the years.

XIV

FOREWORD

Meantime Columbia University was expanding its Middle East department, and with financial help from Hagop Kevorkian had established a chair in Iranian Studies, which in 1961 Ehsan Yarshater was invited to occupy. After much hesitation, and prolonged discussions with his wife, he accepted and embarked thus on an even more arduous

but richly productive period of his life. During it he worked immensely hard in New York for three-quarters of the year, and returned every long vacation to Iran to work immensely hard there. He retained the directorship of the Bongäh-e Tarjoma, keeping in close touch from the United States with a succession of deputy directors; and he continued as president of the Anjoman-e Ketäb, the Rähnemä-ye Ketäb being mainly in charge of Iraj Afshar. Each summer, after a busy university session, he found awaiting him in Tehran a quantity of matters— scholarly, administrative and financial—which demanded his attention;

and a press of people impatient to discuss with him, sometimes at great length, their own particular problems. Yet even in these circumstances his first act was always to set in motion arrangements for a field trip to study yet another dialect which he had identified as little known or insufficiently explored. At Columbia University he was deeply engaged in developing undergraduate and graduate courses, teaching and supervising, and taking his full part in departmental and university duties. He was also planning volumes for a projected series of translations of Persian classical works called Persian Heritage Series. UNESCO had a similar project in hand, under the title of Persian Representative Works, but it was making little progress. In 1962 the UNESCO department concerned proposed that their undertaking should be merged with Ehsan Yarshater’s. This series was funded largely by the Bongah-e Tarjoma, with smaller contributions by UNESCO; and its agreed aim was to make “the best of Persian literary, historical and scientific texts available in the major world languages ... not only to satisfy the needs of the students of Persian history and culture, but also to respond to the demands of the intelligent reader who seeks to broaden his intellectual and artistic horizons.” Under Ehsan Yarshater’s direction the publication of volumes in this important new series proceeded apace. From 1964 to 1966 he was granted extended sabbatical leave, which he spent in Iran. The royal Pahlavi Foundation was established in 1964, and the prestigious Bongäh-e Tarjoma was made one of its affiliates. “In editoral matters, however, the Institute continued to maintain essentially an independent stance, with the director exerting full discre>

FOREWORD

XV

tion in the choice of works and the selection of authors, editors and

translators in the series published under his general editorship.’’” As well as devoting much time to the Bongäh’s affairs during these two years, Ehsan Yarshater brought out in two volumes his own Naggäshi-e novin (Modern Painting)®. This he published under the penname Rahsepar, which he had used as art-critic over the years for the journal Sokhan (published by his friend P.N. Khanlari). His reason for seeking anonymity was that he regarded these writings as the fruit of an amateur interest only; but Naggäshi-e novin, reprinted in 1975, remains the only substantial work of recognized merit in Persian devoted to this subject. Chapters from it have been prescribed for classwork, and others have been included, for the quality of their writing, in Jalal Matini’s Nemunahdi az nathr-e fasih-e farsi-e mo‘Gser (An Anthology of Contemporary Eloquent Persian Prose.) His dominant professional interest continued to be his dialect studies, and these two sabbatical years gave him further opportunities for intensive field work. His researches, which had begun in the 1950’s with southern Tati, had been extended during the intervening years; and down to 1979 he was able to work systematically over a wide area, which included Taleshi-speaking districts on the west Caspian coast, Khalkhal and Tarom in Azerbaijan, Kho’in and the Zanjan region, Rudbar, Kuhpaya and Alamut to the east of Qazvin and Ramand to the south of it, with the Sava and Kashan districts, and regions yet further south where Central dialects are spoken. In recording many largely unknown or ill-explored village dialects of this area Ehsan Yarshater has shown great exactness and analytical skill, and his attention to detail in both phonology and morphology makes his work outstanding among recent contributions to Iranian dialectology, setting him in the great tradition of Andreas and Mann, Zhukovsky, Christen-

sen and Morgenstierne. He is never a reductionist, nor one to gloss over problems by superimposing a phoneme where there is variation; and with his care for detail he truly shows languageat work. His descriptions are full of precise observations about differences in usage between speakers of different ages, and even between inhabitants of different quarters of the same village; and where documents exist he has studied the changes between earlier and modern speech. He sets this minute recording in a wider context by consistently noting similarities between dialects and dialect-groups; and he has traced changes (as for example in postpositional patterns) which may reflect usages in the Turkish superstratum. He observes moreover the ways of life and social interac-

XVI

FOREWORD

tions which tend to bring about linguistic interference such as by Turkic with Iranian, or by one form of Iranian with another. No description of an Iranian dialect offers a more delicate analysis of intricate relationships (such as morphological case, number and gender-marking in relation to the scales of animacy, reference and thematicity) than his study of southern Tati; and this makes it ideal for use in typological studies and general works on variation and language change®. Nor is there anything comparable to his study of gender in the dialects of the Kashan area, with its admirable analysis of the multiple parameters, only a few of which have ever attracted the attention of researchers. The same precision and depth characterize his coverage of whole areas and his attention to minute differences between closely related dialects; and this has then enabled him to trace the network of linguistic change on a micro-scale. On a larger scale his work has been nothing less than the rediscovery of the descendants of ancient Median, long thought wholly to have disappeared. He named his book on southern Tatı “Median Dialect Studies I”, and convincingly justified this title by his masterly summary of what is known of the languages of Azarbaijan in the Middle Ages and pre-modern times. This study included in fact Greater Media with Media Atropatene; and in it he showed that it had been wrong to suppose that the Iranian dialects spoken within Azarbaijan were immigrant ones from other regions !°. Instead he was able to establish that the dialects which he had studied reflect a linguistic continuum from Azarbaijan southward to where the Taleshi dialects join the northernmost Tati ones, with the southernmost Tati ones then linking up in their turn with those of the central dialects. He also discovered the importance within this continuum of the Iranian dialects spoken by local

Jewish communities, which he studied extensively in Tehran, Hamadan, Isfahan, Kashan, Golpayegan and other towns, together with the “secret” Perso-Aramaic language which some of them used.

His conclusion was that “the Jewish dialects and sub-dialects are the indicators of Median dialects long forced out from urban centers by Persian. In other words, whereas Persian is the intruder in Western and

Central Persia (that is, the Median territory) the Jewish dialects are native.”1! His researches as a whole led him to the major discovery that some western Iranian dialects are as conservative as some eastern Iranian ones, and that the traditional perception (based essentially on Middle

Persian, Parthian

and modern

Persian with its variants) of a

FOREWORD

XVII

morphologically wanting western Iranian is misleading, this being in fact by no means typical. It seems very fitting that an Iranian scholar from Hamadan, once the capital of Media, should have discovered these remarkable facts, and should by his labours have thrown so much new light on the linguistic heritage of western Iran. This important and prolonged research continued to be interwoven by Ehsan Yarshater with his work at Columbia University, to which he returned in the late summer of 1966. Soon afterwards he established a Center

for Iranian

Studies

there,

of which

he continues

to be the

director; and the next year he organised a major conference on all aspects of contemporary Iranian life, together with an exhibition of Persian painting—the most extensive that had then been held. The conference papers were edited by him, and were published in 1971 under the title Jran Faces the Seventies. In 1968, Ehsan Yarshater was

elected chairman of the Middle East department, and served in this capacity until 1973, when he resigned in order to be able to devote more time to developing the activities of the Center. Meantime in Iran the Bongäh-e Tarjoma, still under his direction, continued to be vigorously active. The first “Foreign Literature Series” (Majmü'a-ye adabiyät-e khäreji) was in the end to contain 71 works, and the various series for children and young readers, together, 155 titles. To these had been added an “Iranology Series” (Majmii‘a-ye Iran-shenasi), which consisted of translations of works by Western orientalists and classical writers, and by Muslim historians and geographers in Arabic. This comprised some 60 volumes. There was also a “Persian

Texts

Series”,

devoted

to critical

editions

of Persian

texts

which were either unpublished or available only im uncritical editions. This series, which reached 48 volumes, “‘represented the first attempt in

Iran to publish Persian texts systematically. It adopted, under Yarshater’s general editorship, the common method of critical editions in the West, best exemplified in Iran by M. Qazvini, with the manuscripts clearly defined and the significant variants recorded in the footnotes.”!? A

general

knowledge

series

was

also

launched,

which

consisted

primarily of works of popular science, and which reached 138 volumes; but after the early ones had appeared Ehsan Yarshater relinquished its general editorship to Mohammad Sa‘idi. Another important scholarly series was of bibliographies. This was initiated in 1958 with the publication of the “Bibliography of Persian

XVIII

FOREWORD

Printed Books” (Fehrest-e ketäbhä-ye Capi-e farsi) by Khanbaba Moshar. A second volume appeared in 1961, and a three-volumed second edition in 1973. There were moreover a number of other series,

for science, art, history and philosophy, which were begun later and so remained less extensive than the earlier ones. In 1969 the Bongäh adopted a proposal put forward by Ehsan Yarshater to translate into Persian the second edition of the ““Encyclopaedia of Islam”, with supplementary articles to be specially commissioned to expand the entries on Iran. The first fascicle of the ““Encyclopaedia of Iran and Islam” (Danesh-näma-ye Iran va Eslam) was published in 1975 with 112 original entries and 99 translated from the “Encyclopaedia of Islam’’’s and eight more fascicles appeared during the next three years. Meanwhile,

in 1972,

Ehsan

Yarshater

presented

to the National

Endowment for the Humanities, an American federal agency, through Columbia University, a proposal for an “Encyclopaedia Iranica” in the English language. This he conceived as a research tool, to meet the needs of scholars and students in Iranian studies and related fields by providing accurate and up-to-date presentations on “topics of archaeological, geographic, ethnographic, historical, artistic, literary, religious, linguistic, philosophical, scientific and folkloric interest,” over a stretch of time extending from prehistory to the present; and he suggested that it should aim at setting Iranian culture in a broad context, and showing reciprocal influences exerted on one another by Iran and its neighbours. The plan was a noble one, and its scope so huge that probably no individual scholar could have won a hearing for it other than Ehsan Yarshater, who already had so many massive achievements to his credit, and who was known not only for initiating but also for carrying through large undertakings. He was also a persuasive advocate; and not only did the National Endowment for the Humanities provide some funding but generous support was offered by the Iranian Plan Organization. Accordingly the great undertaking got under way, and the first contracts were signed with contributors in 1979. Two years earlier Ehsan Yarshater and his wife had decided to use their private means to endow a foundation that would ensure that work on the Encyclopaedia and other major projects which he had initiated could continue after him. By 1979 the legal work had been completed, trustees were appointed, and the foundation was about to be registered with the Ministry of Justice when revolution broke out in Iran. The

FOREWORD

XIX

work of the Bongäh-e Tarjoma, which was affiliated with the Pahlavi Foundation, was brought to an immediate halt. Subsequently the new government took over the Bongäh, and tacitly acknowledged the admirable work which it had been doing over the previous quarter of a century by continuing to operate it under its own name. Some works were published which were already in the press (including two more fascicles of the “Encyclopaedia of Iran and Islam”). A fairly large number of the Bongäh’s publications were moreover reprinted in the course of time, a further tribute to the excellence of its work. Its library was also expanded by the addition of that of the Anjoman-e Ketab, which, with its journal Rähnemä-ye Ketäb, was

closed down!3.

But in 1981

the Bongäh

itself was

merged,

with

some other organizations, in a new “Centre for Scientific and Cultural Organizations,” renamed in 1986 the “Scientific and Cultural Publication Company” (Markaz-e Enteshärät-e ‘Elmi va Farhangi). In the very year of the revolution Ehsan Yarshater had convened a meeting in England of the panel of consulting editors of the Encyclopaedia Iranica; and he found himself facing this meeting with funding for the project suddenly and drastically reduced, while he felt himself still with obligations to staff, printers and publishers, as well as to the large number of scholars who had been drawn into the undertaking, some of whom had already written contributions for it. Nevertheless, almost anyone else would have given up at this point, yielding to the force of large and unforeseen events. But for Ehsan Yarshater great odds seem only a challenge to still greater endeavour, when the cause is a worthy one; and he resolved to continue in the hope that he could raise new funding somehow. In this he was successful, thanks to his own qualities and achievements, and tenacity of purpose. But it is a continuing struggle, which swallows up all too much of his time and energy at the expense of purely scholarly pursuits. From then on the complex and arduous work of compiling and producing the Encyclopaedia has been carried on at the Center for Iranian Studies, Columbia University chiefly with the continued support of the National Endowment for the Humanities. The first fascicles were published in 1982, and by the end of 1989 three bound volumes had come out, with ten more planned to follow over the years. The undertaking has benefited from the unremitting labours of a succession

of assistant editors, notably among them M. Kasheff, who began working on the “Encyclopaedia of Iran and Islam”, transferring without break to the Encyclopaedia Iranica; and latterly P.O. Skjaerve;

XX

FOREWORD

but the driving force and inspiration continues to be Ehsan Yarshater, who oversees its every aspect. For this, long experience has uniquely qualified him, both on the practical and scholarly sides; and his extraordinary width of knowledge is invaluable for the choice of rubrics and invitation of contributors. There are few Persian writers and men of learning of the twentieth century whom he has not known, few Iranists whose work he has not read and remembered, perhaps no aspect of Iranian history and culture to which he has not devoted some attention. The usefulness of the Encyclopaedia is generally recognized; and it is proving not only an indispensable source of knowledge, but is itseif a stimulus to research and fresh thinking on the part of scholars who are invited to contribute, and who respond to the opportunities which it provides. The heavy burdens which it lays on its chief editor have unfortunately kept his own contributions relatively few; but they have ranged characteristically widely, with a number of entries on Iranian dialects, a vivid and sympathetic account of the village of Abyana, and a meticulously documented article on Afrasiyab. He has made moreover striking contributions from his own unique knowledge to articles by others, for example to that on the great modern Persian singer Banan. Since all his labours on the Encyclopaedia have been in addition to his full-time professorial work at Columbia University, it seems incredible that even Ehsan Yarshater should have been engaged at the same time on another major task; but since the early 1970s he had been preparing, as general editor and contributor, the third volume of the Cambridge History of Iran, devoted to the Seleucid, Parthian and Sasanıan periods. This massive work, in two parts, was planned to compass “every aspect of Iranian civilisation from the death of Alexander in 323 B.C. to the advent of Islam in the seventh century A.D.” There were 33 contributors, and their contributions came in irregularly over a number of years, with many delays and difficulties; and as they were assembled it became clear to Ehsan Yarshater that the enormous timespan and diversity of subject-matter were going to present problems for the general reader. Accordingly he went beyond what most would consider to be the call of editorial duty, providing the work with a long, lucid and deeply perceptive introduction, in which he provided guidelines to the whole; and he also set concise introductory pieces before each of the nine main sections into which it is divided. His own contributions comprised chapters on “Iranian common beliefs and world-view,”

“Iranian

national

history,”

and >

“Mazdakism.”

The

FOREWORD

XXI

volume appeared in 1983; and the first print was sold out with the same rapidity that had marked the purchase of publications of the Bongäh-e Tarjoma. Just a little later yet another massive undertaking,

which had been

initiated by Ehsan Yarshater in 1971, began to bear fruit. This was an annotated English translation of Tabari’s “History of Prophets and Kings” (Ta’rikh al-rusul wa’l molük). Ehsan Yarshater had suggested this as a desirable enterprise to UNESCO, for consideration by its Arabic Commission; but since that Commission favored other tasks, he

himself undertook it, with UNESCO’s approval, under the auspices of the Bongäh. Only a few contracts had been signed with scholars when the Bongäh was closed down, and funding had again to be sought elsewhere. It came to be provided by the National Endowment for the Humanities; and publication of the History, to be in 40 volumes, began in 1985. Seventeen volumes have by now appeared, with ten in the press. Ehsan Yarshater sometimes regrets his involvement in this work, more properly the domain of Arabists; but, again, it is not in his character to abandon a task once embarked on. The work of the Iranian Center proceeded vigorously meanwhile, and was diversified. The publication of volumes in the multilingual, multinational Persian Heritage Series continued steadily; and the Columbia Iranian Lecture Series, founded and endowed by Ehsan Yarshater in 1979, brought a succession of Iranists from other universities in the States and abroad to give an annual set of lectures. This was fittingly inaugurated by the great Iranist H.W. Bailey, and his and three other sets of lectures have so far been published in book form. Subsequently in 1987, Ehsan Yarshater established an Iranian Seminar, whose meetings are regularly attended by Iranists from New York’s universities and those of neighbouring states, and often, by invitation or the chance of travel by others from farther afield. Both lectures and seminars are occasions for stimulating discussion and the fruitful sharing of knowledge. ) With his capacities and experience, it was inevitable that Ehsan Yarshater should be elected member of a number of councils and committees, among them the Council of Corpus Inscriptionum Iranicarum (from 1954); the Iranian branch of the International Council for Philosophy and the Human Sciences (of which he was general secretary from 1957 to 1961); the National Translation Council, Columbia University (from 1976); and the American Institute of Iranıan Studies (trustee from 1978).

XXII

FOREWORD

One of Ehsan Yarshater’s special gifts was threatened with total neglect under the huge pressure of professorial, scholarly, editorial and administrative work, namely his writing of elegant Persian; but latterly his friend Jalal Matini has persuaded him to contribute from time to time short notes (yäddäshthä) to the journals /ran Nameh and Iran Shenasi, both edited in the United States; and these have given much pleasure to its readers. All this vast amount of achievement could be accomplished only by long toil; and often after a hard day’s work Ehsan Yarshater returns in the late evening to his office at the Iran Center (which is interconnected with his apartment), to put in more hours of concentrated work at his desk there. He has been fortunate to have in his wife a lady who not only understands but supports such dedication, matching it indeed with hard work and idealism of her own. Once settled in the United States, she studied for a B.A. (1975) and M.A. (1981) at Columbia University, published articles, and applied her knowledge and experience through serving on numerous councils and committees; and from 1986 she has worked part-time at the Middle East Institute of Columbia University as co-ordinator of its Outreach Program, which aims at bringing accurate knowledge of Middle Eastern affairs to students, teachers and

the general public. Events in Iran in the past decade have brought deep personal sorrows to the Yarshaters, as to many other Iranian families. These they have borne with characteristic courage and dignity. Nor is life for them ever wholly toil. There is music, poetry and the visual arts to be enjoyed; and friends and colleagues treasure memories of their delightful hospitality, with wide-ranging talk, rich reminiscences, wit and laughter. He has always been a lover of sport and the open air; and in his student days he went on long mountain walks with friends in the Alborz, and later skied there. For a long time it was mainly his dialect studies which took him from his desk; but latterly a threat of ill-health from unremitting work has forced him out of doors again for recreation. He goes regularly on long walks with the Appalachian Mountain Club, adding enjoyment of American natural beauty to his recollections of that of his much loved motherland; and it is to be hoped that with retirement he will take to the mountain trails more often, thus keeping his health and strength, and being able to see to completion the formidable enterprises which he has in hand (notably among them the publication of many notes and texts gathered during his field-work in Iran, and still to be edited). He has already made profound contribu-

FOREWORD

XXIII

tions to Persian scholarship and letters, and Iran and Iranian studies owe him immense debts. May he live to incréase that indebtedness, and to enjoy the satisfaction of large tasks fulfilled and new knowledge continually gained. M. Boyce G. Windfuhr

Notes

1 Bibliography, no. 3. 2 See his “The ancient language of Azerbaijan”, Transactions of the Philological Society, London, 1951, pp. 157-177. 3 E. Yarshater, ‘The Tati dialects of Tarom’’, bibliography, no. 46, p. 451 n. I. + For a detailed account of the Bongäh and its undertakings see E. Joseph, Encyclopaedia Iranica Il, pp. 351-55. 5 On the Anjoman-e Ketäb see Iraj Afshar, El I, pp. 85-86. © Bibliography, no. 18. 7 Joseph, art.cit., p. 352.

8 Bibliography, no. 7. ° Bibliography, no. 8; cited by G. Bossong, Empirische Universalienforschung. Differentielle Objektmarkierung in den neuiranischen Sprachen, Tübingen, 10 Bibliography, nos. 64 and 95.

1985, pp. 22-25.

11 “Jewish communities of Iran and their dialects”, bibliography, no. 59, p. 453. 12 Joseph, art.cit., p. 1753. 13 After the Rähnemä-ye Ketab ceased publication in 1979 its editor, I. Afshar, managed to continue “its format, rubrics and tradition” in Ayanda, a new journal under his editorship see Afshar, art.cit., p. 86.

THE PUBLICATIONS

OF EHSAN YARSHATER

I. BOOKS iby Theorems and Remarks (al-Ishärät wa’l-tanbthat) by Avicenna, tr. into Persian in the 13th century; annotated edition. Tehran: National Monuments Society, 1953. . Five Treaties in Arabic and Persian (Panj resäla) by Ibn Sina, annotated edition. Tehran: National Monuments Society, 1953. . Persian Poetry under Shahrokh: The Second Half of the 15th Century (She‘r-e farsi dar ‘ahd-e Shahrokh). Tehran: The Tehran University Press, 1955.

. Legends of the Epic of Kings (Dastanha-ye Iran-American Joint Fund Publications,

Shahnama).

Tehran:

1957, 1958, 1964; 2nd ed.

1974, 1982 (awarded a UNESCO prize in 1959). . Old Iranian Myths and Legends (Dastanha-ye Iran-e bastan). Tehran: Iran-American Joint Fund Publications, 1957, 1958, 1964 (Royal Award for the best book of the year, 1959). . With W.B. Henning (eds.). A Locust’s Leg: Studies in Honour of S.H. Tagizadeh. London: 1962. Modern Painting (Naqqashi-e novin). 2 vols. Tehran: Amir Kabir, 1965-66; 2nd printing, 1975. A Grammar of Southern Tati Dialects, Median Dialect Studies I. The Hague and Paris: Mouton and Co., 1969. Iran Faces the Seventies (ed.). New York: Praeger Publishers, 1971.

. With D. Bishop (eds.). Biruni Symposium. New York: Center for Iranian Studies, Columbia University,

1976.

. Selected Stories from the Shahnäma (Bargozida-ye dastanha-ye Shahnama), Vol. I. Tehran: BTNK, 1974; reprint, Washington, D.C.: Iranian Cultural Foundation, 1982. With David Bivar (eds.). Inscriptions of Eastern Mazandaran, Corpus Inscriptionem Iranicarum. London: Lund and Humphries,

1978. I

With Richard Ettinghausen (eds.). Highlights of Persian Art. New York: Bibliotheca Persica, 1982. 14. Sadeq Hedayat: An Anthology (ed.). New York: Bibliotheca Persica, 1979.

THE PUBLICATIONS OF EHSAN

YARSHATER

XXV

15: Cambridge History of Iran, Vol. III: Seleucid, Parthian and Sassanian Periods (ed.). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982. 16. Persian Literature (ed.). New York: State University of New York Press, 1988.

II. ARTICLES Abbreviations:

BFLT BTNK

= =

JAOS BSOAS

= =

Bulletin of the Faculty of Letters of Tehran Bongäh-e Tarjoma va Nashr-e Ketäb (The [Royal] Institute for Translation and Publication, Tehran) Journal of the American Oriental Society Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies,

University of London . “Manichaean Myths of Creation” (Afsäna-ye khelgat dar äthär-e mänavi),

Yaghmä IV, 5, 1951, pp. 193-99, and IV, 6, 1951, pp. 252-

56. “Indra in Indo-Iranian Mythology” (Asätir-e hend-o-iräni: Indra), Yaghma IV, 10, 1952, pp. 433-47, and V, 1, 1952, pp. 2-13. (Also published separately by Yaghma, 1952.) “Rostam in Sogdian” (Rostam dar zabän-e soghdi), Mehr, VIII, 7,

1952, pp. 406-11. Entries on Persian literature, Cassell’s Encyclopedia of World Literature, 2 vols., London:

1953.

“A Vedic Hymn to Indtra” (Sorud-e Indra), translated from Sanskrit, Sokhan IV, 2, 1953, pp. 105-13. h “Newly Discovered Choresmian Works” (Athär-e bäzyäfta-ye zabän-e khwärazmi), Mehr VIII, 10, 1953, pp. 584-88. “To

Be

Fair-minded”

(Shiva-ye

ensaf),

Sokhan

IV,

3,

1953,

pp. 165-68. Reprinted in An Anthology of Contemporary Eloquent Persian Prose (Nemunaha-i az nathr-e fasih-e farsi-e mo‘aser), Vol. 2, ed. J. Matini, Tehran:

1979, pp. 270-73.

“The New Way” (Räh-e now), Sokhan IV, 4, 1953, pp. 245-49. Reprinted in J. Matini, ed., op. cit., pp. 277-80. “Some Linguistic Notes (Chand bahth-e zabänshenäsi): 1. Language and Civilization,” Sokhan IV, 5, 1953, pp. 393-97; “2. The Hittite Language,‘ ibid., 6, pp. 451-54; “3. Relationships among Non-cognate Languages,” ibid., 7, pp. 541-43.

XXVI

THE PUBLICATIONS

OF EHSAN

YARSHATER

10. “The Individual or the Society (Fard ya ejtemä’)--Answer to an Inguiry,” Sokhan IV, 10, 1953, pp. 839-40. le “Some Remarks on the Choresmian Language” (Chand nokta dar bära-ye zabän-e khwärazmi), BFLT,

1; 2, Tehran:

1954, pp. 41-49.

12, “Can One Enjoy Modern Painting?” (Aya mitavan az naqqashi-e jadid lazzat bord?), Sokhan V, 1954, pp. 820-27, 896-904; VI, 1954, pp. 120-27, 225-31, 379-90, 477-86; 1955, pp. 1054-67. Reprinted in J. Matini, ed., op. cit. . “A Newly Found Work of Avicenna” (Athar- e täza-ı az Ibn Sina), Jashn-nama-ye Ibn Sind, Il, Tehran, 1955, pp. 506-08.

“A Crooked

Foundation”

(Bonyad-e kaj), Sokhan VI, 3, 1955,

pp. 188-91. . “Poverty with Luxury” (Darvishi o tajammol), Sokhan VI, 5, 1955,

pp. 275-79. . “The Plague of Being Considerate” (Afat-e re‘äyat), Sokhan VI, 8, 1955, pp. 664-68. “The Care of the Language” (Gham-e zaban), Sokhan VII, 2, 1957, pp. 99-104. . “The Respected Scholar” (Daneshmand-e mohtaram), Yaghma XIV, pp. 49-52. Reprinted in J. Matini, ed., op.cit., pp. 274-76; and in Gozida-i az adab-e farsi (An Anthology of Persian Literature), ed. ‘A.A. Khobrazada, Vol. 2, Tehran:

1973.

. “Preliminary Information on Shahrudi, the Iranian Dialect of Khalkhal,” Akten des XXIV internationalen Kongresses, Munich: 1957, pp. 458-60. 20. “Iranian Languages and Dialects” (Zabänhä va lahjahä-ye iräni), Loghatnäma-ye Dehkhoda, Introductory Volume, ed. M. Mo‘in, pp. 9-25, reprinted in BFLT V, 1-2, Tehran: 1958, pp. 11-48. (Also published separately, Tehran, 1958.) 21 Introduction to The Catalog of the First Tehran Biennale, Tehran: 1958. 22. “The Dialect of Shährüd (Khalkhäl)”, BSOAS XXII, 1, 1959, pp. 52-68. 23. “Now Ruz--The New Year Celebration in Persia,” Jran Review IV, 3, March 1959, pp. 12-15. 24. “Persian Letters in the Last Fifty Years,” Middle Eastern Affairs XI, 10, 1960, pp. 297-306; reprinted in Critical Perspectives on Modern

Persian

Literature,

ed.

Th.

Ricks,

Three Continents Press, 1984, pp. 448-57.

Washington,

D.C.:

THE PUBLICATIONS OF EHSAN

YARSHATER

XXVII

25: “The Dialect of Kajal,” BSOAS XXIII, 2, 1960, pp. 275-86. 26. “The Theme of Wine-drinking and the Concept of the Beloved in Early Persian Poetry,” Studia Islamica XII, 1960, pp. 43-53. OMe “The Tati Dialects of Ramand,” A Locust's Leg: Studies in Honour of S.H. Tagizadeh, ed. W.B. Henning and E. Yarshater, London: 1962, pp. 240-45. 28. “Some Common Characteristics of Persian Poetry and Art,” Studia Islamica XVI, 1962, pp. 61-71. 29. “Pasargadae,’ Encyclopaedia Americana, 1962, s.v. 30. “Avesta,” ibid., s.v. 3: “Iranian Religions,” Area Handbook for Iran, Washington, D.C.: American. University, 1963, pp. 227-51. 32. “Iranian Intellectual and Artistic Expressions,” ibid., pp. 189-227. 33. “The Dialects of Alvir and Vidar,” Mélanges présentés a Georg Morgenstierne, Wiesbaden: 1964, pp. 177-87. 34. Introduction to the critical edition of the Qäbus-nama by Gh.-H. Yusofi, Tehran: BTNK,

1966.

35: “An Untimely Foray of Death: [Obituary of W.B. Henning and Review of His Works] (Dastbord-e nabehangam-e ajal), BFLT XIV, 5-6, Tehran:

1967, pp. 1-40.

36. “Persian Poetry and Painting: Common Persian Art, ed. A.U.

Features,”

Pope, Vol. XIV, Tokyo:

A Survey of

Oxford

University

Press and Meiji Shoho, 1967. (A shorter version of no. 28, above.) 31. “The Maraghi Community and Their Language” (Maraghiyan-e alamut va rudbär va zaban-e anha), Majalla-ye Iranshenasi I, 1967. 38. “Textual Aspects of the Andarznama,” A Survey of Persian Art, ed. A.U. Pope, Vol. XIII: Addendum A, Tokyo: Oxford University Press and Meiji Shoho,

1968.

39; “A Bibliography of W.B. Henning” (Henning va athar-e u), Rahnema-ye Ketab XI, 5, 1968, pp. 212-23. 40. “Discussions” (Goftogu), Rahnemä-ye Ketab, XI, 12, 1968, pp. 37. 41. “Ibn Isfandiyär,” Encyclopedia of Islam, new edition, Vol. III, ed. Lewis, Menage, Pellat and Schacht, Leiden: Brill, and London: Luzac,

1969, s.v.

42. “The Use of Postpositions in Southern Tati,” V. Minorsky Memorial Volume (Yäd-näme-ye iräni-ye Minorsky), Tehran University Press, 1969, pp. 221-55. 43. “Distinction of Feminine Gender in Southern Tati,” Studia Classica et Oriéntalia Antonio Pagliaro Oblata, Vol. III, Rome: 1969, pp. 281-301.

XXVIII

44.

“Persian

THE PUBLICATIONS

Drama,”

OF EHSAN

The Reader’s

YARSHATER

Encyclopedia

Vol. III, ed. Bassner and Quinn, New

York:

of World Drama, Thomas

Crowell

&

Co., 1969, pp. 647-52. 45. “Persian Literature in the Islamic Period,” The Cambridge History of Islam, Vol.2: The Further Islamic Lands, Islamic Society and Civilization, ed. Holt, Lambton, and Lewis, Cambridge: Cambridge

University Press, 1970, pp. 671-82. 46. “The Tati Dialects of Tarom,” W.B. Henning Memorial Volume, London: Asia Major Library, 1970, pp. 451-67. 49. “The Passing Away of a Distinguished Scholar [Obituary of S.H. Taqizadeh]” (Dargozasht-e däneshmand o däneshparvari geränqadr), Yadnama-ye

Tagizädeh, ed. H. Yaghma’i, Tehran:

1970.

50. “Persian Modern Literary Idiom,” /ran Faces the Seventies, ed. Ehsan Yarshater, New York: Praeger Publishers, 1971, pp. 284320; reprinted in Critical Perspectives on Modern Persian Lierature, ed. Th. Ricks, Washington, pp. 448-57.

D.C.:

Three

Continents

Press,

SLi “Current Trends in Linguistics: Iran and Afghanistan,”

1984,

Current

Trends in Linguistics, ed. TH. Sebeok, Vol. VI: Linguistics in South

92

West Asia and North Africa, The Hague: Mouton & Co., 1971, pp. 669-89. “Zoroaster,” International Biographical Encyclopedia, New York: McGraw-Hill,

1971, s.v.

53: “Shapur II,” ibid., s.v. 54. “Chosroes I,’ ibid., s.v. 55 “Were the Sasanians Heirs to the Achaemenids?** La Persia nel Mediovo, Rome: Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei, 1971, pp. 51731. 56. “Persian Language and Literature,” Funk & Wagnalls Standard Reference Encyclopedia, New York: 1971, s.v. Sn Entries on Persian literature in Cassell’s Encycopedia of World Literaturd, 2nd ed., London: 1973 (a revised and enlarged version of no. 4). 58. “Common Characteristics of Persian Poetry and Music,” Studies in Honor

of Richard

Ettinghausen,

ed.

P. Chelkowski,

New

York

University and the University of Utah, 1974, pp. 59-78. 39: “Jewish Communities of Persia and their Dialects,’ Jean de Menasce Memorial Volume, ed. by Ph. Gignoux and A. Tafazzoli, Paris, 1974, pp. 453-66.

THE PUBLICATIONS

OF EHSAN

YARSHATER

XXIX

60. “Persian Literature of the Safavid Period: Progress or Decline?” Studies on Isfahan: Proceedings of The Isfahan Colloquium (Harvard University, January 21-24, 1974), Vol. I, ed. R. Holod, 1974, pp. 217-70.

61. “Pourdavud: In Memoriam” (Be yäd-e Purdavud), Pourdavud Memorial Volume, ed. I. Afshar (Vol. 21 of Farhang-e Iran Zamin), 1976%pp. 7-15; 62. “The List of Achaemenid Kings in al-Biruni and Bar Hebraeus,” Biruni Symposium, ed. E. Yarshater and D. Bishop, New York: Center for Iranian Studies, Columbia University, 1976, pp. 49-65. 63. “Cultural Developments in Iran,” Iran: Past. Present and Future, ed. J.W. Jacqz, New York: Aspen Institute for Humanistic Studies, 1976, pp. 407-20. 64. “Azari,” Dänesh-näma-ye Iran-o Eslam (Encyclopedia of Iran and Islam) I, 1, Tehran: 1976, pp. 61-69. 65. Introduction, ibid., pp. 9-33. 66. Introduction to Tärikh-e Sistän, tr. M. Gold, Rome: IsSMEO, 1977. 67. “The Hybrid Language of the Iranian Jews,” JAOS XCVII, 1, 1977, pp. 1-8. 68. “Modern Persian Poetry,” preface to An Anthology of Modern Persian Poetry, tr. A. Karimi Hakkak, New York: Bibliotheca Persica, 1978, pp. xili-xiv. 69. Introduction to The History of Shah Abbäs by Eskandar Beg Monshi,

tr. R. Savory,

3 vols., New

York:

Bibliotheca

Persica,

1979-86, pp. xii-xiv.

70. “Ta’zieh and Pre-Islamic Mourning Rites in Iran,” Ta zieh: Ritual

TA

Drama in Islam, ed. P. Chelkowski, New York University and Soroush Presses, 1979, pp. 88-95. Introduction to Sadeq Hedayat: An Anthology, ed. E. Yarshater, New York:

72. Introduction

Bibliotheca Persica, 1979.

to Wisdom

VI), tr. S. Shaked, New

of the Sassanian York:

Sages (Denkart,

Book

Bibliotheca Persica, 1980, pp. 363-

773 73; Itroduction to Memoirs, by Qasem Ghani, Vol. VI, London: 1981. 74. Preface to Highlights of Persian Art, ed. R. Ettinghausen and E. Yarshater, New York: Bibliotheca Persica, 1982.

13: “Modern Persian Painting,” in R. Ettinghausen and E. Yarshater, eds., op.cit., pp. 363-77. 76. “Abarsäm,” Encyclopaedia Iranica, ed. E. Yarshater, Vol. I, Fasc. 1, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1982, pp. 67-68.

XXX

THE PUBLICATIONS

OF EHSAN YARSHATER

77. Itroduction to Plagued by the West, by J. Al-e Ahmad, Sprachman, Caravan Books,

tr. Paul

1982.

78. “Survey of Parthian and Sassanian History,” Cambridge History of Iran, Vol. III, ed. E. Yarshater, Cambridge University Press, 1982,

79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87.

pp. xvii-Ixxv. “Iranian World View,” ibid., pp. 343-58. “Iranian National History,” ibid., pp. 359-476. “Mazdakism,” ibid., pp. 991-1024. “Abuzaydabad,” Encyclopaedia Iranica, ed. E. Yarshater, Vol. I, London and Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1985, p. 401. “Abuzaydabadi,” ibid., pp. 401-02. “Abyäna,” ibid., pp. 402-04. “Abyana’l,” ibid., pp. 404-05. “Afrasiab,”’ ibid., pp. 570-76. “Observations on Nasir al-Din Shah,” Qajar Iran: Political, Social and Cultural Change 1800-1925, ed. C.E. Bosworth

and C. Hillen-

brand, Edinburgh University Press, 1983, pp. 3-13. 88. “Why the Median and Achaemenian Kings Are Not Mentioned in Persian National History” (Chera dar Shahnama az padeshahan-e

89.

90.

91. 92. 93.

94. 95.

Mad o Hakhamaneshi zekri nist), /ran Nameh III, 2 (1984), pperol-273; “Distinction of Feminine Gender in the Dialects of Kashan Province and the Adjoining Areas,” Papers in Honour of Professor Mary Boyce, Acta Iranica, Hommages et Opera Minora, Vol. XI, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1985, pp. 727-45. “Persian Poetry in the Timurid and Safavid Period, 14th-18th Centuries,” Cambridge History of Iran, Vol. VI, ed. Peter Jackson, Cambridge University Press, 1985, pp. 965-94. “Nowruz,” Encyclopaedia of Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade, Vol. X, New York: McMillan Company, 1986, pp. 341-42. “Astiani,” Encyclopaedia Iranica, Vol. II, 1987, pp. 848-49. “Approaches to Translation of Classical Persian Poetry,’ Festchrift for J.P. Asmussen, Copenhagen: 1987. Introduction to J. Khaleghi-Motlagh’s critical edition of the Shahnameh, New York: Bibliotheca Persica, 1988. “Azari, the Iranian Language of Azerbaijan,” Encyclopaedia Ira-

nica, Vol. III, pp. 238-45. 96. “The Dialects of Aran and Bidgol,” Mélange Gilbert Lazard, 1988. 97. “Bidgoli,” Encyclopaedia Iranica, op. cit., Vol. IV, s.v., 1990, pp. 247-49.

THE PUBLICATIONS

OF EHSAN

YARSHATER

XXXI

II. BOOK REVIEWS . E.

Pour-Davud,

pp. 344-46.

. E. Pour-Davud,

HORMOZD-NAMA. GATHA.

Sokhan

IV,

4,

1953,

Sokhan IV, 1953, pp. 234-36.

. I. Gershewitch, A GRAMMAR Sokhan V, 8, 1954, pp. 646-47.

. R. Ghirshman, IRAN FROM

OF MANICHAEAN

SOGDIAN.

THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE

ISLAMIC CONQUEST. BFLT III, 1, Tehran, pp. 73-79. . S.H. Tagizadeh, MANI VA DIN-E U. Sokhan VII 6, 1956, pp. 73-79. . W.B. Henning, [KARTIR’S] INSCRIPTION OF SAR-MASHHED and THE INSCRIPTION OF NAQS-I RUSTAM (Corpus Inscriptionum Iranicarum). BFLT V, 2, Tehran, 1958, pp. 236-40. . B. Geiger, “The Middle Iranian Texts, The Synagogue,” THE EXCAVATION OF DURA-EUROPOS, Final Report, VIII. BFLT V, 3, Tehran, 1958, pp. 96-101. . G.R. Driver, ARAMAIC DOCUMENTS OF THE FIFTH CEN-

TURY B.C., Ibid., pp. 88-95.

. CORPUS INSCRIPTIONUM IRANICARUM. Rähnemä-ye Ketab’T, 11958, pp: 75-77. . M.C. Andreyev, YAGHNOBSKIE TEKSTI. /bid., pp. 77-79 (to-

gether with M. Ahi). ME J.P. de Menasce, LE DINKART: 123

DEENNE. Ibid., pp. 79-81. G. Lazard, GRAMMAIRE

UNE ENCYCLOPÉDIE MAZ-

DU PERSAN

Ibid., pp. 479-85. . R.C. Zaehner, THE TEACHING

DIUM OF ZOROASTRIAN 1958, pp. 102-09.

CONTEMPORAIN.

: OF THE MAGI--A COMPEN-

BELIEFS, BFLT V, 3, Tehran:

. JP. de Menasce, PAHLAVI OSTRACA AND PAPYRI (Corpus Inscriptionum Iranicarum). BFLT V, 4, Tehran, 1958, pp. 69-71.

. V. Minorsky, PERSIA IN A.D. 1478-1490. Ibid., pp. 72-81. . J. Äl-e Ahmad, TAT-NESHINHA-YE BOLUK-E ZAHRA. Rähnemä-ye Ketäb II, 2, 1959, pp. 212-14. 193 H. Vreeland (ed.), IRAN (Human Relations Area Files). Rahnemaye Ketab II, 2, 1959, pp. 310-15.

18. Afzal Iqbal, THE LIFE AND THOUGHT East Journal XIV, 2, pp. 227-28.

OF

RUMI.

Middle

XXXII

THE PUBLICATIONS

19: G.

Lazard,

LES

OF EHSAN

PREMIERS

SIECLES): FRAGMENTS

YARSHATER

POETES

RASSEMBLES,

PERSANES

(IX°-X®

EDITES ET TRA-

DUITS, 2 vols. JAOS LXXXVIII, 1968, pp. 605-07. AL-DIN AL-RAZI AND HIS 20: Fathalla Kholeif, FAKHR CONTROVERSIES IN TRANSOXIANA. Middle East Journal, XXIII, 1, 1969, p. 105. 21: Anne Paolucci, ed., IRAN, REVIEW OF NATIONAL LITERATURES, Vol. 1, No. 1, Spring 1971, Special Editor, Javad Haidarı. Middle East Journal XXVI, 3, 1972, pp. 338-40. 22. Iosif Ornaskij, LES LANGUES IRANIENNES, Middle East Journal, Washington, D.C.: 1979. 23: Mary Boyce, ZOROASTRIANS: THEIR RELIGIOUS BELIEFS AND PRACTICES, Journal of Asian History XIV, 2, pp. 152-55. 24. Mary Boyce, A HISTORY OF ZOROASTRIANISM. VOL.2 UNDER THE ACHAEMENIANS. Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, 1, 1984, pp. 139-41.

JES P. ASMUSSEN

SIMURY IN JUDEO-PERSIAN TRANSLATIONS OF THE HEBREW BIBLE No Iranian, when hearing or seeing the word simury, would think of anything but the fabulous bird that belongs to the same category of Wonder-Birds as the Rukh of the Indian Jatakas and the huge Roc of the Arabian Nights as well as the giant Garuda of India, the feng huang in Chinese literature and the colossal Noga-bird of the Chuckees of Siberia (Edward A. Armstrong, The Folklore of Birds, London 1958, p. 128-129). The Simury is met with throughout Persian literature, from

Firdowsi’s Shähnäme

to Sadiq Hidäyat’s

The Water of Life (Ab-i

zindagi). In the Shahnama, the Simury is mentioned about 50 times (according to Fritz Wolff, Glossar zu Firdosis Schahname, Berlin 1935, p. 538) as the saviour, guardian and nourisher of Zal-i Zar (Dastan), Rustam’s father, but also has an evil counterpart called by the same name (Hanns-Peter Schmidt. ‘The Senmurw. Of Birds and Dogs and Bats”, Persica IX, Leiden 1980, pp. 17ff.; Theodor Noldeke, Das iranische Nationalepos, Berlin und Leipzig 1920, pp. 10 and S55ff. (Zweite Auflage des im Grundriss der iranischen Philologie erschienenen Beitrages); pp. 17 and 83ff. in the English translation by Leonid Th.

Bogdanov,

Journal

of the K.R.

Cama

Oriental

Institute,

No.7,

Bombay 1930, reprinted Philadelphia 1979; cf. also M. Mo‘in, Simury (A Fabulous Bird), Dr. J.M. Unvala Memorial Volume, Bombay, 1964, pp. 18-24). Hidayat’s The Water of Life includes much folkloric material (mury-i ätas, par | datas, Küh-i Oäf, etc.). But the popularity of Simury crossed frontiers and inspired people outside Iran, e.g. the Turks (cf. Irene Mélikoff, Abu Muslim. Le “‘Porte-Hache” du Khorassan

dans la tradition épique turco-iranienne, Paris 1962, p. 37, 39 and 42) and in our time even the great Danish essayist and novelist, the late Elsa Gress, who wrote a novel called Simurghen in 1986 (“The Simurgh is a super-phoenix. It is not only the symbol of revival, it is -- well, life itself. -- For the bird is the visible symbol of what cannot be said and cannot be reached ...”), in which she also used the famous allegory from ‘Attar’s Mantig ut-tair about “the thirty birds”, st mury that after a long and difficult journey finally discover that they are identical with the Simury, God. In Iran “eagle”, the bird of prey, is Persian äluh (see

2

JES P. ASMUSSEN

Ulrich Schapka, Die persischen Vogelnamen, Würzburg 1972, p. 8-9, with references, especially Rüdiger Schmitt, “Der ‘Adler’ im Alten Iran”, Die Sprache XVI, 1, 1970, p. 65 ff.) or Arabic ‘ugab (see Schapka p. 170f.) and never simury (see Schapka p: 143). In Sa’di’s Büstän, for instance, ugäb is used, and simury is the Wonder-Bird (Carl Philipp, Beiträge zur Darstellung des persischen Lebens nach Muslih-ud-din Sa‘di, Halle a.S. 1901, p. 8-9), and in modern ornithological literature ‘ugdb is exclusively Genus: Aquila - ‘ugäb (S.H. Jervis Read, A Provisional Check-List of the Birds of Iran, Teheran University Publications No. 465, Teheran 1337, p.5; The Birds of Iran/Parandagan-i Iran, ed. Derek A. Scott et al., Department

of the Environment,

Tehran

1975,

p. 84-92 (‘Ugäbhä - Eagles). In the Middle Persian Zoroastrian books senmurw,

likewise, is always the Wonder-Bird

Simury:

It has its nest

(Sn for ’Syd’n, äsyan) on the tree without evil and of many seeds (Menög i Xrad 61:37ff.), the Sönmurw makes this tree wither and mixes these seeds in the water (Gr. Bundahisn XVI:4; Selections of Zädspram WI: 39), sits on that tree in the middle of the sea Fraxkard (VourukaSa) (Pahlavi Yast 14:41), etc. (the texts are transliterated and translated by Schmidt, Leiden 1980, pp. 6ff.; see also idem, “The Simurgh

in Sasanian

Art and Literature”,

Oriental Institute, 48, Bombay,

Journal of the K.R.

Cama

1980, p. 162 ff.). Also should be mention-

ed the Pahlavi Rivayat Accompanying the Dädastän i Dénig 31:7 (ed. B.N. Dhabhar, Pahlavi Text Series No. 2, Bombay 1913, p. 104, line 4), “when this earth becomes flat ... and the Sönmurw makes its nest ('s’n for ‘Sdn, asyan, cf. the Méndg i Xrad text) in the forest (wesag), and when everyone who was in the world rises again (abäz äxezed)”. Also in the non-didactic Ayddgar i Zaréran §84 (ed. Antonino Pagliaro, Reale Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei, Rendiconti della Classe di Scienze morali, storiche e filologiche, Ser. VI, vol. I, fasc. 7-8,

Roma 1925, pp. 585-586) the sen i murwak (the name of Zarér’s horse, barag) is “il mitico Simury”’! (On Saëna in Avesta, Sen in Pahlavi and Simury in Persian see also M. Mo‘in, “Simury A Fabulous Bird”, Dr. J.M. Unvala Memorial Volume, Bombay 1964, pp. 18 ff.). In the Middle Persian writings Gluh is “eagle” pure and simple and apparently without any mythological connotation at all. In the Kärnamag i Ardasir X:7 (ed. Behramgore T. Anklesaria, Bombay 1935, p. 67 the Adur i Farröbag “came flying in like a red eagle” (andar parid edön Ciyön aluh-é i suxr) and saved Ardasir from being poisoned. In the Avesta the word saéna- (Skrt. $yend-) occurs twice, viz. in the Rasn Yast (Yt. 12:17, saena-: upa avam vanam yam saénahe ya histaite

SIMURY IN JUDEO-PERSIAN

3

maidim zrayayho vourukasahe, ‘on that tree of Saëna that stands in the middle of the Sea Vourukaëa”) and in the Bahram Yast (Yt. 14:41, maraya- saéna-: hau maza morayo saëno, “that great bird Saëna”). It is not possible to arrive at an exact identification of the bird saëna- by the help of these passages, but it seems at least to be a large bird, a bird of prey, commonly thought to be the eagle. À beginning, or perhaps already established, mythological significance is perceptible in the Avestan contexts but not so strong that it can be excluded that a “profane”, ‘“‘ornithological”, use of the word existed alongside the mythological one. That kind of thing is well-known in general ethnozoology, especially in the case of the eagle. The eagle was often connected with supernatural powers and played a considerable part in folk belief, magic, folk medicine and in the world of symbols without losing its distinctive feature as a “real” eagle (cf. V.J. Brondegaard, Folk og fauna 2, Kobenhavn 1985, pp. 79-84). That this notion: the eagle as a “real” bird and a ‘‘magic”

bird at the same

time, also

existed in ancient Iran, is probably indicated by the Avestan adjective upäiri.saena- (Yt. 19:3, and Y. 10:11), “was über die (Flughöhe der) Adler hinausgeht” (Air. Wb. 398) about a mountain (cf. also Wilhelm Eilers, Iranische Ortsnamenstudien, Österreichische Akad. der Wissenschaften. Philos.-hist. Klasse, Sitzungsberichte, 465. Bd., Wien 1987,

p. 26: das Gebirge, das ‘‘hôher als der Adler” ist), as one, I think, may presume that no mountain range is insurmountable to a Wonder-Bird! In the Judeo-Persian

translations

of the Hebrew

Bible,

however,

simury is always and exclusively ‘‘eagle”, the eagle pure and simple, Hebrew näsär (for a list of all birds in the Biblical books, see Eliezer Katz, A Classified Concordance

To The Bible in Four

Volumes, Jerusa-

lem-New York 1964, pp. 243-244: The Pentateuch, 1967, p. 476; The Early Prophets, 1970, p. 517-519; The Late Prophets, 1974, p. 743-745: Hagiographa). Following are some passages from the Pentateuch (“The Vatican

Judeo-Persian

Pentateuch:

Genesis”,

Acta

Orientalia

28,

Copenhagen 1965, pp. 263-340; Exodus, ibid. 29, 1965, p. 75-136; Leviticus, ibid. 29, 1965, p. 137-181; Numbers, ibid. 29, 1966, p. 253-310; Deuteronomy,

ibid. 31, 1968, p. 55-113, ed. Herbert H. Paper; idem, A

Judeo-Persian Pentateuch.

The Text of the Oldest Judeo-persian Penta-

teuch Translation, British Museum Ms. OR. 5446, Jerusalem

1972; even

in Shimon Hakham’s translation (Jerusalem 1906 and onwards), Job (Herbert H. Paper, ‘A Judeo-Persian Book of Job”, The Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, Proceedings 12, Jerusalem 1976, p. 313 ff.), Psalms (Prof. E.Z. Melammed, Tafsir of the Psalms in Jewish Persian, Jerusalem 5728), Proverbs (Herbert H. Paper, “Proverbs in

JES P. ASMUSSEN

4 Judeo-Persian”,

/rano-Judaica,

ed.

Shaul

Shaked,

Jerusalem

1982,

pp. 122-147), Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel (ed. Paul de Lagarde, Persische Studien, Abh. der Kgl. Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen 31.

Band,

1884),

Daniel

(the Aramaic

part,

simury = nasar;

Ernest

Mainz, “‘Le livre de Daniel en Judéo-Persan’’, Jrano-Judaica, ed. Shaul Shaked, Jerusalem 1982, pp. 148-179) and Obadiah (J.P. Asmussen,

“Eine jüdisch-persische Version des Propheten Obadja”, Acta Antiqua Acad. Scient. Hung. XXV, Budapest 1977, pp. 255-263). Exodus 19:4: “on eagles’ wings”, Pr prh’ symvryn (Vat. Pentat., missing in OR. 5446; The British and Foreign Bible Society edition (Norollah and Khodadad, Judeo-Persic Pentateuch, London

1900), which

by no means represents genuine Judeo-Persian tradition, has bar bTh'y ‘qb (‘uqab) and always so for näsär). Leviticus 11:13: symvry krks (see Schapka, op. cit. p. 212) ‘vq’b (Vat. Pent.); ‘ogab (Schapka pp. 170-171) 'ostoxvan-xvar nasr-e bahr (The British and Foreign Bible Soc.); simurg ‘ustuxän Sikan ‘angab for ‘uqab? Schimon Hakham). Deut. 14:12: = Lev. 11:13 (Vat. Pent., The British and Foreign Bible Soc. and Shimon Hakham); symvry krgs mvsgyr (Schapka p. 270; British Mus. Ms. OR. 5446).

Job 9:26: “As the eagle (kandsdr) that hasteth to the prey’, cvn symvry 'vst'b kvnd ‘br xvvrdny. 39:27: “Doth the eagle mount up at thy command-?”, ‘gr Br dh'n tv byind svvd symvry-? Psalm 103: 5: “‘-like the eagle” (kannäsär), m'nnd symvry. Proverbs 23:5: ““-as an eagle toward heaven”, ëvn symvry -- bhvv’ smn, 30:17: “-the young eagles-”, béyg’n symvry. 30: 19: “The way of an eagle in the air”, r'h symvry der 'sm'n. Isaiah 40:31: “-wings as eagles”, b/ én symvry'n, Jeremiah 4:13: “-swifter than eagles-”, sßvktr- ’z symvry’n. 48:40: évn symvry. 49:16: “-though thou shouldest make thy nest as high as the eagle-”, ky bvind krdy ëvn symvry ’Sy’nh tv. 49:22: ““-he shall come up and fly as an eagle-”, évn symvry vr-Svvd vby prd. Ezekiel 1:10: “-the face of an eagle-”, rvy symvry (together with adam, Sir and gay). Daniel 4:30: évn symvrg n. 7:4: “-eagle’s wings”, prh’ symvry (gappin di-nasar). Obadiah 1:4: ‘gr bvlnd $vy évn symvry. But also in extra-Biblical books simury is ‘‘eagle”, näsär, as in the great Judeo-Persian epic poet Shähin of Shiraz (13th -14th century; see Wilhelm Bacher,” Zwei jüdisch-persische Dichter, Schahin und Imrani”,

30. Jahresbericht der Landes-Rabbinerschule in Budapest für das Schul-

SIMURY IN JUDEO-PERSIAN

5

Jahr 1906-1907, Budapest 1907, p.97, note 2) and in the Qissa-ye Daniyäl (Hermann Zotenberg, “Geschichte Daniels. Ein Apokryph”, Adalbert Merx’ Archiv für Wissenschaftliche Erforschung des Alten Testaments I, 1869, pp. 385-427; cf. Jes Peter Asmussen, “Den gammeltestamentlige litteratur pa jodisk-persisk”, Dansk Teologisk Tidsskrift 28, Kobenhavn

1965, p. 8).

In the Qissa-ye Daniyal (Zotenberg, pp. 390-391) the throne of Salomon has four feet: gäv, simury, sir and adam (cf. the four faces in Ezekiel’s vision, 1:10; on other versions of the description of the throne

see Louis Ginzberg, The Legends of the Jews IV, Philadelphia 1954 (sixth impression), pp. 157 ff., and VI, pp. 296 f.). Further, according to the Qissa, “on the eagle’s wing the Israelites will come into the presence of the Messiah” (‘Br bl symvry h’zr ’yynd ysrln r’ bpys msyh), i. e. the “real” eagle as the powerful royal bird (Zotenberg, pp. 420-421). However, there is a Wonder-Bird in the Hebrew Bible, at least according to Eastern tradition (cf. Ginzberg V, p. 51. Job 29:18, höl, the phoenix [Greek phoinix: 1) a fabulous bird, the phoinix, 2) a datepalm, the second meaning having been chosen by the LXX and the Vulgata palma] and the Armenian Bible [car armawoy], whereas the Peshitta [hela], the Authorized Version and Martin Luther have translated the word

as “sand”;

the Danish

Bible translation

has ‘“Foniks-

fuglen”!). Now, The British and Foreign Bible Society’s edition of Job (Dr Bruce’s translation from Hebrew into Persian, transliterated by Mirza Norollah, London 1907) has ‘onga (‘angä, Schapka, op. cit. p. 173), i.e. simury in the old dictionaries, the Burhän-e qäti for example, and already in Ta‘alibi (Arthur Christensen, Les Kayanides, Det Kgl. Danske Videnskabernes Selskab. Historisk-filologiske Meddelelser XIX, 2, Kobenhavn 1932, p. 123 and 133; Eva Baer, “Sphinxes and Harpies in Medieval Islamic Art”, The Israel Oriental Society, Oriental Notes and Studies 9, Jerusalem 1965, p.40f.; Annemarie Schimmel, Stern und Blume. Die Bilderwelt der persischen Poesie, Wies-

baden 1984, p. 154 ff.). In the genuine Judeo-Persian tradition simury/ ‘angä is not possible here, as simury is no Wonder-Bird, but the real eagle! So in the Judeo-Persian translation of Job (ed. Herbert H. Paper, p. 354), the genuine tradition, another word has been used: mury. And that immediately makes one think of Benveniste’s words: “Dans av. maraya- nous avons à reconnaître moins des oiseaux de grande taille que des oiseaux mythiques, à qui est dévolu, dans la légende ou dans le rite, un rôle fypique” (E. Benveniste, “Les noms de l’‘oiseau’ en iranien”, Festgabe für Herman Lommel, Herausgegeben von Bernfried Schlerath, Wiesbaden

1960, p. 15). Avestan in Judeo-Persian!

HAROLD W. BAILEY IRANIAN KET ‘FORETELLER’ AND RELATED

WORDS

A base in Iranian, kai-, ké-, expresses a concept of ‘being before’ in time or place, in both a sacral context and in daily life, of which either could be primary or both undifferentiated. No verbal form has yet been traced, but Iranian is so little known in published form that its present absence is not significant. The word két--as *kaitä- with suffix -ta or *kaitä as nom. sing. to kaitar- with agent suffix--occurs in the Zoroastrian Vita Zoroastri (Denkart, ed. Madan = DkM 601.17): adak aß ave két apar raft ‘then they visited the ker’, the soothsayer, the family advisor (translated by French devin by M. Mole, La légende de Zoroastre, Paris 1967, p. 14). The agent suffix -tar-, nom. sing. -tä, is attested in Old Persian daustar-, nom. sing. daustä, resulting in Zoroastrian Pahlavi and New Persian dost,

and

in Ossetic

söxtä,

plur.

söxtätä

‘caller,

muezzin’

(Bailey,

Dictionary of Khotan Saka | = DKS], Cambridge etc. 1979, 426 s.v. süch-). The plural occurs in the Zoroastrian Pahlavi Kärnämak i Artaxsahr: dänäkän ut frazänakän kétan kandäkän ‘learned men, wise men,

soothsayers,

sorcerers’,

advisers

of the

king

(W.B.

Henning,

BSOS 9, p. 84). In Turfan Parthian gyd- occurs in the derivative gydyg in the phrase gydyg'n W mryg'n, *kédigan ud märegarän, ‘soothsayers and man@ra-charmers’.

This is from

ketik, not Avestan

kayada-,

on

which see later. As an adjectival epithet to a proper name, ketän (vocalized in the first syllable by the two dots under -y- for -é-) from két by suffix -dnais quoted in the Greater Bundahisn (TD, 230.14): karsvasp ke kétan xvänend ‘Karsvasp (Avestan Korasavazdah) whom they call ketän’, that is, possessing soothsayer powers. Here the shorter, ‘Indian’, Bundahisn (Copenhagen ms. K 20, fol. 128r3) has Pazand kadan. As the proper name of a ‘wise man’ and of a king of India, Firdowsi, in his Shähnäma,

has kaid, which

may

well be this same

ker. The

adjective in -ik and -änik, with the abstract suffix ih, occur as pésketänikih (DkM 281.18) and pes-ketikih (DkM 377.12) for ‘prophecy’ with the anticipation stressed by the first component, pés ‘before’. P. Pelliot has pointed to a name of ‘outside people’ as non-Buddhistic heretics in Zabul in the Si-yu-ki of Hüan Tsang in the phrase ki-to ,

IRANIAN KET

i,

uai-tau from *kiei-tä ngudi-tau (B. Karlgren, Analytic Dictionary of Chinese, Paris 1923, nos. 676, 1006, 775, 978). Pelliot had no suggestion for a name kéta, and the proposal remained doubtful. But this két supports his conjecture (Mélanges Linossier. 1, 1932, p. 430). They were worshippers of the god su-na (Zin). The base kai- can be found more widely. Khotan-Saka (DKS 100) has cäya- ‘sorcery, magic’, rendering Buddhist Sanskrit mayä ‘magic power’, and kakhorda- ‘soothsayer’, Avestan kaxvarada-. In Transactions of the Philological Society 1956, p. 67, this cäya- was connected with the Vedic hapax cayu- (RV 3.24.4), formed from kai- as jayu- from jayati ‘win’. The subscript hook of cäya- may indicate a recently lost -y( < *cäyya-). In Yast 8.5 the kaéta- are beings active injuriusly (druZinti). They have been compared with the Sogdian ¢ytk, *ëetaka-, in a list of dyw (déw) ‘demons’. The Ossetic keyäre ‘guide’, and sometimes ‘servant’, presumably as going in front, can be traced to either older *kai-karaka- or *kayakaraka-. The Iron form has lost the medial -d- and palatalized the initial to ceyré. As ‘guide’ it occurs twice in Iron ädämon sfäldystäd 5, 42, in line 3: dä ceyre dam Ci udzän ‘who will be your guide”. In the Digoron, Pamiatniki 2, 124: äfsadän sä keyäre ‘the guide of the troop’, and later at base sd fusun sin keyäre ‘their host being their guide’. The second component, -ydré, is from -karaka- as attested in its older form in Sogdian m'rkr’k, *märakaraka-, and as -garé preserved from Parthian in Armenian mar-garé ‘prophet’, from *man@ra-karaka-. The mara- is from man@ra- ‘charm, formula, either good or bad’. From Ossetic Digoron, Cerkes Qabard has keyarej with the developed meaning ‘companion’. The Abaza k’ayraia ‘guide’ has modified the -é- to -a-.These two words are quoted from Abaev, /storiko-etimolo-

giceskij slovar’ osetinskogo jazyka without references, and I have not been able to check them. The gloss to Iron éeyre is in Iron ädämon sfäldystäd 5,273: fändägämonäg ‘path-shower’ with the remark that at times it also means ‘servant’. A passage is quoted in the /storiko-etimologiceskij slovar: dildar jä &eyretimä ‘the lord with his servants’ (the sense of ‘before’ may refer to servants going in front). An Ubykh word with the meaning ‘companion’ may be cited here: k’ay, plural k’’ay’a. It is rather different, but, if *key is assumed, the sources could be *kayika-, in a form like Zoroastrian Pahlavi kaik, kayik (written kyyk with -yy- like alif; Greater Bundahisn, TD,, 144.14),

8

HAROLD W. BAILEY

New Persian kaik, ISkäëmi käyiy (d < a) and Zoroastrian Pahlavi pdk, *padik ‘footman’, New Persian paik, paig, Armenian payik. A direct form from *kaita- is in Georgian k'aet-i ‘troop-leader’ (gundis t'avi). The retention of -ae- here can be compared with the aein aesag-i ‘observer, scout’ (DKS 97), New Persian disah, aisanah, es. The Old Georgian Dictionary has (190-1) k’aesn-i ‘grief, k aesnean-i ‘sad’, rendered sevdiani. It has three spellings later k ‘aesan-i, k eesan-i, k'e$an-i ‘grief. In the Vepxvis t'gaosani it is twice in the edition Baramidze 313 and 835 (Cubinaëvili ed. 2 has a third reference I have not found). This word is Iranian from the base kai- ‘to lament’, familiar in the form with palatalized initial in Khotan-Saka ci, kyi, (DKS 101), Zoroastrian Pahlavi Ciy-, and Turfan Persian éyy-. The increment -s- of k aesan-i is frequent. In the word for ‘to rain’, Iranian has var-, as Avestan var- Khotan-Saka bär-, New Persian bar-, Baloci gwarag (but once probably Avestan aiwi.varsta-), where the Old Indian has only the form with increment: var-s-. The third Iranian base kai-, ‘to heap up, build’, also has this increment -$- in Avestan Caë$a- ‘building’. These various derivatives of a base kai ‘to act in sacral fashion’ offer a chance to clarify some Avestan words. The ‘sorcerer’, detested by the Magian in Avestan has some technical terms. Thus kayada-, fem. kayeidi- ‘soothsayer’, formed by suffix -aöa- as in Avestan *éankada‘elbow (Frahang i oim 3 g 5, written Ciakada-), with the gloss Cang-arsn (like Ossetic cäng-ärinä ‘cubit’). With éankada- belongs PaSto cangal ‘elbow’ and New Persian Cangal, cangäl ‘fingers, claws’, Gang ‘claw’. Beside kayada- there is Avestan kdidya- of ambiguous. form. I would prefer to take *ka‘dya- with long -d- before the two consonants -dy- (as in Avestan ärmaiti är- is from ara-). The etymon of these words from base kai- seem clearly to have two facets: there is the sense of sacrality in ‘soothsayer, sorcerer’ but a sense of normal wordly affairs in ‘guide, servant, companion’. The sacral is more precise and should be taken as basic. If the words are traced to Indo-European k*ei- ‘to observe’ with various developed meanings it is possible to compare a similar development of the base (s)keu(Pokorny, p. 587) ‘to observe’, in Old Indian kavi- ‘wise’, Iranian kaviof hero and wise men, as in Khotan-Saka kai, plur. kd, epithet of äryamonks

and

of princes.

In the west

are

New

Persian

kai and

kav;

Manichean kav for the primeval giants. But the sacral is in Lydian kaues, acc. sing. kauen, ‘priest, priestess’.

IRANIAN KET

9

In the Kärnämak passage the word kandäkän ‘soothsayer, sorcerer’ was cited. The Turfan Persian gnd’yy, kandäyı ‘sorcery’ shows the same base. It could be taken from sak-: sk-, whence the incremented sk-en-d-

where sak- would belong with Latin sacer-dos ‘priest’. This is also the one part of the ambiguosity of két, since it also could be traced back to a similar sk-ei-. This is then likely the base sek- ‘to cut’ with similar increments sk-ei-, (s)k-en-d-, (s)kand-. The word ket and its related forms is basically an expression of sacrality, so that the meaning ‘guide’ is the man who has trained knowledge. In this sacrality the words Avestan maga- and Old Persian baga- are embedded. Within this same context can be added the Khotan-Saka kauväle from older *kaubavardaka-, equivalent to Buddhist Sanskrit sadhaka‘sorcerer, magician’. The cognate is Ossetic Digoron kovun ‘pray’ and ‘prepare a religious feast’. The Rigvedic kubhanyavah, epithet of the Marutas, has been drawn in by Benveniste (see DKS 66).

C.E. BOSWORTH

AL-KHWARAZMI

ON VARIOUS FAITHS AND SECTS, CHIEFLY IRANIAN I. INTRODUCTION

Over the last twenty years, the present author has been engaged in the translation of, and the commenting upon with varying degrees of copiousness, component parts of the first discourse, that on the socalled “Arab” sciences, of Abt ‘Abdallah Muhammad b. Ahmad alKhwärazmi’s early encyclopaedia of the sciences, the Mafatih al-‘ulum". These publications have been intended as a complement to the translations and studies of virtually the whole of the second discourse, that on the ““Ajami”, i.e., non-Arab, chiefly Greek, sciences, made up to almost

a century ago by the great Erlangen historian of science and mathematics Eilhard Wiedemann (1852-1928) in his series of Beiträge zur Geschichte der Naturwissenschaften bei den Arabern?. Al-Khwärazmi is a shadowy figure, but he seems to have been a secretary in the diwäans at Bukhara of the Samanid Amirs of Transoxania and Khurasan. The Mafatih al-‘ulum is his sole known book, and since he dedicated it to the Samanid vizier Abu ’l-Husayn “Ubaydallah b. Ahmad al-‘Utbi, whose term of office began in 367/977, the composition of the work is fixed at around that time. It well merits the attention paid to it by Western scholars and their frequent reference to it since the publication of G. Van Vloten’s editio princeps*. It is a succinct dictionary of technical terms (simply called alfaz “vocables,” since the later, more precise words for “technical terms,” mustalahät and istilahät, do not seem to have been in general use in al-Khwarazm’’s time). It was written at a moment when there had already.appeared in the eastern Islamic world a certain vogue for works classifying the sciences and explaining their particular relationships, and was accordingly slightly antedated by the Kitab agsam al-‘ulum of the geographer Abu Zayd Ahmad b. Sahl al-Balkhi* and the Kitab jawami‘ al-‘ulum of alBalkhrs pupil, the somewhat enigmatic Ibn Farightn’. These two works, and that of al-Färäbi°, were, however, more concerned with the

classification of knowledge than the definition of terms; and al-Balkhrs book is no longer extant whilst Ibn Farighün’s one has not yet been

AL-KHWARAZMI ON FAITHS

1]

published in a critical text. Hence al-Khwärazmi’s dictionary stands as the first work of its specific kind, and is therefore paricularly precious for us. The study here presented aims at giving a translation (with such annotation as seems necessary, given that several of the terms treated by al-Khwarazmi obviously require no detailed explanation) of the fifth section (fas/) of the second chapter (bab) of the first discourse (magäla). The chapter as a whole deals with kalam, defined however very widely, since it covers the technical terms used by the Muslims to denote various sects like the Shi'a and Khawarij and their sub-sects, and those terms used in theological and philosophical discussions on such major questions as the creation of the world, God’s attributes and God’s predestining power. Al-Khwarazmi also deals here with terms used in talking about Christianity and Judaism and about various categories of what he describes as idol-worshippers, such as those of pre-Islamic Arabia. The section of it here translated seems to be one in which the author dealt with an assortment of religious groups which could not be conveniently placed elsewhere but which were mainly connected with the Iranian religious and cultural world in its largest sense, although Manichaeism was of course a product not of the Iranian world but of the Aramaean one. He concentrates on Zoroastrianism and, to a lesser extent, Manichaeism,

which to someone

living in the eastern

Iranian

and Central Asian regions were still living faiths, but he also touches on non-specific categories of religious and philosophical thinkers such as the materialists, the atheists and the believers in the transmigration of souls; on Buddhist and Hindu religious devotees; and finally, he reverts

to the Greeks with a mention of the Sophists.

II. TRANSLATION

[35]

Section Five [of Chapter Two of the First Discourse] on the names of the exponents of the various religions and faiths (al-milal wa'l-nihal)

al-Dahriyya are those who hold the view of the eternity of the course of time (gidam al-dahr). al-Mu'attila are those who refuse to affirm the existence of the Creator, He is magnified and exalted.

12

C.E. BOSWORTH

Ashäb al-tanäsukh are those [36] who hold the view of the transmigration of souls (tandsukh al-arwäh) within the bodies [of animate beings], just as a book is copied (yunsakh) from one version to another. Al-Sumaniyya are the devotees of Suman, i.e., the worshippers of idols. They hold the views of the eternity of the course of time, the transmigration of souls and of the earth’s perpetually devolving. People in the earliest times were Sumaniyyün and Kaldaniyyun. Now the Sumaniyyun (out of the two groups) were idol worshippers. Al-Kaldäniyyün are those who are called the Säbi’ün and the Harnaniyyun. Their remnants are at Harran and in Iraq. They assert that their prophet is Budhasaf, who arose in India, although others of them say that it is Hirmis. As regards Budhasaf, he lived in the time of King Tahmürath and brought the system of Persian writing. These persons were called Säbi’ün in the time of al-Ma’mün, but the genuine Sabi’un are actually a sect of the Christians. The remnants of the Sumaniyya are in India and China. Al-Barähima are the religious devotees of India: the singular [37] is B.r.hmi. They do not believe in prophethood. Al-Daysäniyya derive their name from Ibn Daysan and are dualists. Al-Margiyuniyya derive their name from Margiyun and are also dualists. Al-Manawiyya are the Manawiyya, who derive their name from Mani. I do not know why they have not formed this nisba according to the normal pattern, but the names of the Harnaniyya connected with Harran and of the ‘Ananiyya connected with the Jewish ‘Ani are formed likewise. Al-Zanädiga are in fact the Manawiyya, and al-Mazdakiyya were also given this name. Mazdak is the person who appeared in the time of [the Emperor] Qubadh. He was the Mubadhan Mübadh, i.e., Chief Qadi, of the Majus, and he asserted that worldly possessions and womenfolk were to be held in common. He made public a book which he called the Zand and asserted that it contained an interpretative exposition (ta’wil) of the Avesta (al-Ab.stä), the sacred book of the Majus which Zaradusht, whom they claim as their prophet, brought. Mazdak’s followers are connected [38] with the Zend (Z.nd), hence one says Z.ndi, with the word arabised so that one says Z.ndiq for the singular and Zanädiga for the group. Al-Bihäfaridiyya are a variety of the Majus who derive their name from a man who was called Bih-Afarid b. Farwardinan. He began his movement at Khwaf, one of the rural districts (rasätig) of Nishapur, at L

AL-KHWARAZMI ON FAITHS

13

the town of Sirawand, in the post-Islamic period and during the time of Abu Muslim. He brought a written scripture and diverged from the Majus in a large number of their religious and legal prescriptions. A certain group of the Majüs followed him, but the great majority of them opposed him. Al-Haräbidha are the devotees of the (sacred) fires, singular Hirbadh. Yazdan is, the Majüs assert, the creator of (all) good. Ahriman is, they assert, the creator of (all) evil. Al-Hummama

is, in the view of the Manawiyya,

the spirit of dark-

ness, which they conceptualise as smoke. Kayumarth is, in the view of the Majüs, the first man. Mashy and Mashyäna [39], in their view, play the same role as Adam and Eve; they assert that they were created from a ribäs plant which grew up from a drop of Kayumarth’s sperm. Al-Süfistä‘iyyun are those who hold a sceptical view about the real nature of things; it is a Greek term. As for the technical terms of the philosophers, we have mentioned them in their appropriate chapters. Prosperity and success come from God!

III. COMMENTARY

The Dahriyya are, in standard Muslim theological and philosophical parlance, the materialists, named after the word for “the passage of time,” dahr, meaning thereby a trend of thought rather than a distinct sect. For such religious and philosophical materialists, the doctrine of the permanent existence of the world since before time, gidam, independent of any divine act of creation in time, was singled out as a touchstone;

the use of the term dahr in Qur’än, XLV,

23-24, where

Muhammad’s opponents assert that there is only this present life and that time, dahr, alone destroys people, must have begun the pejorative evolution of the term in orthodox Muslim eyes’. The Mufattila are literally “those who strip God of His attributes”, the term applied by their more traditionalist opponents to the Mu'tazila, who, with their emphasis

on the oneness

of God

(tawhid) were

accused by such of their adversaries as al-Ash‘ari of stripping Him (cattala) of all human attributes and of completely negating any notion of God comprehensible to humanity®. But as with the previouslymentioned term, al-Khwarazmi widens it from its original, specific

14

C.E. BOSWORTH

usage in the controversies of the Muslim mutakallimün to a general one for those who denied the existence of God at all and were in fact atheists. Belief in metempsychosis is of course so widespread in the religions of South Asia that one would expect it to occur in regions affected by Hindu and Buddhist cultural and religious influences such as the eastern Iranian fringes of the Islamic world; influences here via Zoroastrianism and perhaps Buddhism seem to have brought ideas of transmigration into certain extremist Shr‘ circles®. Al-Khwärazmi now passes to the Buddhists (al-Sumaniyya, from Skr. $ramana ‘‘anchorite, religious devotee” > *Shamaniyya, with the change sha- > su- perhaps resulting, as suggested by V. Minorsky!°, from displacement of the dots of the shin being subsequently read as a damma or u vowel), but has little solid information about them save their

views

on

the

pre-existent

material

nature

of the

world,

on

metempsychosis and on the perpetual state of the evolution and devolution of the world. There is, too, a reference to Budhasaf,

the form in

Islamic sources of the Buddha’s name, via Bodhisattva; these sources

had already, by al-Khwärazmrs time, taken over features from the life of the Buddha as the Romance of Bilawhar and Yüdäsaf'\. The channel of transmission was doubtless through Soghdia or other parts of Central Asia where Buddhism, though receding, retained a foothold. The reference to the transmigration of souls is straightforward enough, but that to the world as perpetually toppling downwards (anna ‘l-ard tahwi sufl®) is rather cryptic, unless it refers to the central Buddhist idea of samsära “cyclical existence,” with the idea of the cosmos as evolving and devolving. The Buddhists now become somewhat intertwined with the Chaldaeans (al-Kaldaniyyun), whose early Islamic avatars were for alKhwarazmi the Sabian community of Harrän in Upper Mesopotamia, in fact by his time nearing its end as a distinct community, the remnant of Hellenistic paganism, but nevertheless having had, through the genius of several of its gifted members, a fertilising effect on the development of Islamic culture in the ‘Abbasid caliphate. Exactly how Budhasaf came to be specifically connected with the Sabians, unless as part of the general diffusion of the Romance of Bilawhar and Yüdäsaf

throughout the Middle East, is unclear, but al-Birüni’s mention of this connection in his al-Athär al-bägiya, written half-a-century or so later, confirms this!?. In al-Khwarazmi’s text here, Budhasaf is linked with

Tahmurath,

one

of the first kings in the Iranian

national

tradition,

AL-KHWARAZMI ON FAITHS

15

from the first millennium of world history!3, and the detail found in other sources that Budhasaf was the inventor of the Iranian alphabet is also alluded to. It is further true, as al-Khwärazmi asserts, that Hermes

Trismegistus, whether as god or prophet, came to be associated with the Sabians'*. The description of the Sabians as being really a sect of the Christians is not easy to understand. It may possibly refer to what Arabic authors like Ibn al-Nadim'5 call the Sabat al-Batä’ih “Sabians of the marshlands”, i.e., those of Lower Iraq, or Mughtasila, those who

perform frequent ablutions and wash all that they eat; now Ibn alNadim observes that their founder was al-Hasih or al-Hasih, i.e., Elkhesai, a leading figure in early Gnostic Christianity. One thinks obviously of an identification of this group with the still-surviving Mandaeans of the Lower Iraq marshlands, descendants of a gnostic group, although an authority like K. Rudolph does not believe that !6. such an identification is necessarily correct The mention of the Brahmans of India is very cursory, although elsewhere in the Mafatih al-‘ulum, in his chapter on history (p. 123 = bab 6, fasl 7), al-Khwarazmi mentions them once more and details some of

the Indian castes, including the Südariyya (Südras), the Bayshiyya (Vaisyas) and the Sandaliyya (Candalas), and in this present chapter on kalam (p. 41 = fasl 6) again cites the Brahmans’ denial of prophethood. Mention

of the Daisanites

and

Marcionites,

adherents

of the two

exponents of gnosticism in early Christianity, Bardesanes and Marcion, was very anachronistic by al-Khwärazmi’s time. Arabic heresiographers and a bibliographer like Ibn al-Nadim!’ nevertheless dealt with them as false prophets of the dualists, immediate predecessors of Mani (although neither of these first two heresiarchs could properly be described as dualists in regard to the two opposing principles of good and evil)!8. Islamic writers knew

more

about Mani

and Manichaeism,

for this

fully dualist faith had held an attraction for certain sections of Islamic society in Iraq during the early ‘Abbasid period, when a special inquisition (mihna) had been set up in order to ferret out its adherents there; but this manifestation of zandaga probably also included other forms of ancient heterodoxy surviving in the fertile religious climate of Mesopotamia!°. Manichaeism was still a living faith in the Transoxania of alKhwärazmrs time. Ibn al-Nadim?°. states that the headship of the religion was moved to Samarqand after the persecutions in Iraq, and the Hudüd al-‘älam?! mentions a convent of the Manichaeans (khänagäh-i Mänawiyän) at Samargand in ca. 371/982.

16

C.E. BOSWORTH

The more purely Iranian movement of Mazdakism, combining with its religious doctrines strong social implications, may well have arisen out of Manichaeism, and is treated by:al-Khwarazmi as such. The movement came to fascinate Islamic heresiographers and historians alike as a warning example, ‘bra, of what disruption to the cosmic harmony could ensue when the monarch, in this case the Sasanid Emperor Kawadh, was seduced by superficially attractive but spurious doctrines??. It is generally agreed by modern scholars that al-Khwarazmis derivation of Arabic z.ndig from the Zend, with the meaning of “one who introduces a new, uncanonical gloss on the Avesta,” is a likely one?*. Reaching the Bihafaridiyya, al-Khwärazmi was dealing with a movement whose epicentre had been in Khurasan, adjacent to where he himself was working only two centuries later, and adherents of BihAfarid’s movement apparently still existed in fourth/tenth century Khurasan awaiting his raja or messianic return?*. Bih-Afarid’s doctrines seem to have arisen out of mainstream Zoroastrianism but to have diverged from these strongly, so that the Zoroastrian clergy of Khurasan were able to put enough pressure on the leader of the ‘Abbasid da‘wa

there, Abu

Muslim,

for him

to put Bih-Afarid

to death.

The

religious book which Bih-Afarid brought is said to have been in Persian, and if it was, must have been a very early text of New Persian; but we can only speculate whether it was written in Pahlavi or Arabic seript2> : Passing to Zoroastrianism proper, which al-Khwarazmi clearly distinguished from Mazdakism as the faith of the Majüs, with whom he must have had contact during his official career in Transoxania and Khurasan, he selects unsystematically only a few terms for mention. Hirbadh he actually explains a second time in his book at p. 11626. Worthy of note is the citing of Yazdan (from Avestan yazata “worthy of worship” > “divine being,” Middle Persian yazad, pluralised in New Persian as yazdän, remaining in Zoroastrianism a common noun with a singular meaning of “divine being” but in non-Zoroastrian usage, e.g., in Firdawsi,

meaning

God,

whether

in an

Islamic

or

Zoroastrian

context) rather than Ahura Mazda/Ohrmazd as the good principle, in opposition to Ahriman. The Kingdom of Darkness and its constituent parts is graphically described,

and

in great

detail, in Manichaean

doctrine,

with

thick,

opaque smoke (al-Khwarazmi’s dukhän) being the directing force among the five elemental worlds, “pits” or “caverns,” each presided >

AL-KHWARAZMI ON FAITHS

over

by an Archon,

known

which

make

17

up the Kingdom?’;

This lore was

to Islamic authors, and a detailed exposé is given by Ibn al-

Nadim3. Al-Hum(m)äma

was, according to Arabic authors, the name

given to this directing evil force (the term only occurs in these sources); see Puech?°, quoting W. Sundermann that al-Hum(m)äma is the Arabic translation of a word (in Manichaean lore?) meaning, in Greek, enthymesis, hence “inspiratrix, inspiring force.” Kayümarth, the first man, was further treated by al-Khwärazmi in his section on the ancient kings of the Persians in his chapter on history (p. 98 = bab 6, fasl 1), where Kayümarth is given the /agab or honorific title of Gil-Shäh “king of clay” because he ruled over the (unpeopled) earth only. Al-Khwärazmi links him here, however, with Mashyag and

Mashyänag (Mashyäna, etc.) as the progenitor of the first man and woman couple, issuing proximately from the ribds plant or bush (Middle Persian réwds, probably rheum ribes or rhubarb)3°, which sprang up after Kayumarth’s seed had been forty years in the ground??. Finally, we have incongruously appended here a definition of the Greek Sophists, apparently dependent on their leading exponents Protagoras and Gorgios, with their scepticism about the possibility of knowledge and their idea that real knowledge is only that which is perceived by the senses. And as al-Khwarazmi says at the very end, he deals with the terms of the philosophers in the second discourse on the foreign sciences, bab 1 on philosophy (falsafa) and bab 2 on logic (mantig), with the brief fas/ 7 of the latter devoted to Sophistics (süfistigi), including the definition of the Sophists as sceptics repeated

(peal).

~

NOTES 1 The component parts of the Mafatih al-‘ulum which have been translated and/or discussed by Western scholars are given in the Bibliography to A.L. Sabra’s art. “alKhvärazmi” in EZ2. But it should be noted that the article mentioned there by Bosworth on the terminology of the history of the Arabs in the Jahiliyya finally appeared in the English- and French-language volume of Studies in Judaism and Islam Presented to Shelomo Dov Goitein on the Occasion of His Eightieth Birthday ..., ed. S. Morag, I. BenAmi and N.A. Stillman, Jerusalem 1981, pp. 27-43, and that a further article by him, “AlKhwarazmi on the Secular and Religious Titles of the Byzantines and Christians,” has recently appeared in Cahiers de Tunisie, XXXV, no. 139-40 (1987) Mélanges Charles Pellat, pp. 28-36. A general account of the Mafatih al-'ulüm, in addition to that given by Sabra in his EZ2 article, can be read in Bosworth, “A Pioneer Arabic Encyclopaedia of the Sciences: al-Khwarizmi’s ‘Keys of the Sciences’,” Isis, LIV, 1963, pp. 97-111.

18

C.E. BOSWORTH

2 Published over the period 1902-23 in the Sitzungsberichte der physikalisch-medizinischen Sozietät zu Erlangen; these can now all be conveniently read in Wiedemann’s collected Aufsätze zur arabischen Wissenschaftsgeschichte, ed. W. Fischer, 2 Vols., Hildesheim, 1970. 3 Liber Mafätih al-Olüm explicans vocabula technica scientarum tam arabum quam peregrinorum, Leiden, 1895. 4 See for this, Ibn al-Nadim,

al-Fihrist, ed. Rida Tajaddud,

Tehran

n.d. [ca. 1350/

1971], 153; tr. Bayard Dodge, The Fihrist of al-Nadim, a Tenth-Century Survey of Muslim Culture, New York and London, 1970, I, p.303. Yaqut, Margoliouth, Gibb Mem. Ser. 6 London, 1923-31, I, p. 142.

Irshad

al-arib,

ed.

D.S.

5 See Bosworth, “Ibn Farighün,” in EP, Suppl., pp. 386-87. © Sc. his succinct /hsä’ al-‘ulüm, known in the Latin West since the Middle Ages, see Brockelmann,

GAL, I’, p. 234, S.I, p. 377; this was of course written not in the Islamic

East but in the central lands of the caliphate, in Iraq or Syria. 7 See I. Goldziher and A.M. Goichon,” Dahriyya,” in EP, II, pp. 95-97; R. Arnaldez,

“Kidam,” ibid., V, pp. 95-99. 8 See L. Gardet and M.-M.

Anawati, Introduction à la théologie musulmane,

essai de

théologie comparée, Paris, 1948, pp. 57-58. W. Montgomery Watt, The Formative Period of Islamic Thought, Edinburgh, 1973, pp. 245-49. ° B. Spuler, /ran in früh-islamischer Zeit, Wiesbaden, 1952, pp. 197-98, 220. 10 V, Minorsky, Sharaf al-Zamän Tahir Marvazi on China, the Turks and India, London,

1942, Comm., p. 124.

11 See D.M. Lang, “Bilawhar wa-Yudasaf,” in EP, I, pp. 1215-17 and J.P. Asmussen, “Barlaam and Iosaph.” in E/r., II.

12 Tr. E. Sachau, The Chronology of Ancient Nations, London, 1879, pp. 186-89. 13 Cf. E. Yarshater, “Iranian National History,” in Cambridge History of Iran, Ill,

1983, p. 384. 14 See M. Plessner, “Hirmis,” in E/’, III, pp. 463-65. 15 Al-Fihrist, pp. 403-04; tr., II, p. 811, cf. p. 922. 16 Die Mandäer. I. Prolegomena: Das Mandäerproblem, Göttingen, 1960-61, pp. 41-43. On the Sabians in general see B. Carra de Vaux, “‘al-Sabi’a,’’ in EJ’ (somewhat outdated).

17 P. 402; tr. II, pp. 805-07. 18 A. Abel, “Daysaniyya,” among the Arabs in Pre-Islamic

in EP, II, p. 199. J. Spencer Trimingham,

Christianity

Times, London, New York, and Beirut, 1979, pp. 52-54,

132-34. G. Widengren,” Manichaeism and its Iranian Background,” in Cambridge History of Iran, Ill, pp. 983-84. 19 See G. Vajda, “Les zindigs en pays d’Islam au début de la période abbaside,” RSO,

XVII, 1983, pp. 173-229. COP Pes 2S tire 197805. 21 Tr. V. Minorsky, London, 1937, p. 113, comm. p. 352. 22 See, e.g., Ibn al-Nadim, p. 406; tr. II, p. 817. Nizam

al-Mulk,

(Siyäsat-näma), ed. H. Darke, Tehran, 1976, pp. 257-78.

23 24 Paris, ?$

Siyar al-mulük

.

L. Massignon, “‘Zindik,” in EI". G.H. Sadighi, Les mouvements religieux iraniens au II® et au III siècle de l'hégire, 1938, pp. 129-30. Ibid., p. 122. B. Scarcia Amoretti, “Sects and Heresies,” in Cambridge History of

Iran, IV, Cambridge,

1975, pp. 489-91.

26 Cf. J.M. Unvala, “The Translation of an Extract from Mafätih al-"Ulüm of alKhwärazmi,” Journal of the K.R. Cama Research Institute, XI, Bombay, 1928, p. 88. For this rank and office of the Zoroastrian priesthood, see M.L. Chaumont, “Recherches sur

le clergé zoroastrien: Le hérbad,” RHR, CLV III, 1960, pp. 55-80.

27 See, for a clear description, H.-C. Puech, “Manichaeism,” in Encyclopaedia Britanica, 15th ed., Macropaedia, and S.N.C.

and Mediaeval China.

Lieu, Manichaeism

in the Later Roman

A Historical Survey, Manchester, 1985, pp. 10 ff.

Empire

AL-KHWARAZMI ON FAITHS AS Veto), O2 TENDUE 29 “Le Prince de Ténèbres en son royaume,’

>

19

in Sur le Manichéisme et autres essais,

Paris, 1979, p. 134 and n. 50.

30 B. Laufer,

Sino-Iranica.

Ancient Iran, Chicago,

Chinese

Contributions

to the History of Civilization

in

1919, pp. 547-51.

31 See the Greater Bundahishn, tr. in Mary Boyce, Textual Sources for the Study of Zoroastrianism, Manchester, 1984, 51-52; A. Christensen, Les types du premier homme et du premier roi dans l'histoire légendaire des Iraniens, Stockholm and Leiden, 1917-34, I

Gajomard, Masjay et Masjünay Hosang et Taxmöruw, with an exposition of the Islamic Sources at pp. 64-101, noting that these all go back essentially to the late Sasanid Khwadhä-yi nämagh (royal book), mediated through the Arabic translation from the Pahlavi original by Ibn al-Mugaffa'; and E. Yarshater, in Cambridge History of Iran, II, p. 384. 32 ] am grateful for advice or various points to my colleagues Dr. P.S. Alexander, Mr. L.S. Cousins, Dr. A.V. Williams, and Dr. S.P. Brock.

Mary

SOME

FURTHER

Boyce

REFLECTIONS

ON ZURVANISM

Cumont’s learnedly argued thesis, that the Mithraic mysteries derived their pantheon and theology almost wholly from the Zurvanism of Asia Minor!, has been under repeated attack over the past decades, from orientalist and classicist alike, so that its demolition has begun to seem almost complete?. His interpretation of Zurvanism was in any case idiosyncratic. He rejected the view, first put forward in 1873 by Spiegel, with characteristic acumen and brevity, that this was a Zoroastrian movement which developed under the Achaemenians through Persian contacts with Babylonian civilization’, and saw it instead as a religion which had evolved independently of Zoroastrianism through the impact of Chaldaean lore on Old Iranian beliefs. Few if any Iranists appear to have accepted this theory entirely, but it had significant repercussions which are still being felt. Thus Nyberg warmly endorsed it with regard to the close link between Zurvanism and the Mithraic mysteries*; and there can be little doubt that Cumont’s belief that Zurvanism itself grew out of the Old Iranian religion stimulated the Swedish scholar to evolve his own equally idiosyncratic theory that Zurvan in fact belonged to that religion, and was older than Zoroastrianism, his concept owing nothing either to it or to Babylonian learning. This theory has been maintained and developed chiefly by G. Widengren, in successive publications, with the wholly speculative claim that down to the end of the Parthian period Zurvanism was an independent religion with its own doctrines and rites®. He still in 1980 upheld Cumont’s idea that Zurvan was the supreme god of the Mithraic pantheon’; and this involved his continued support for Cumont’s identification of Zurvan (of whom no representation was known) with the so-called ‘‘lion-headed god” of Mithraic iconography. The statues of this strange, often winged, being vary a little in detail®; but his limbs are usually entwined by a snake, a creature which in some contexts symbolises time®, and this gave Cumont positive justification for the identification. Nevertheless, some scholars found reasons thereafter for seeing him rather as Ahriman!°, and some then contrived to interpret

him as both!!. Mithraic iconography cannot be traced, however, before Roman imperial times; and by now it has been admirably demonstrated J

FURTHER REFLECTIONS ON ZURVANISM

21

that in fact he belongs, in his outer seeming, to the astrological science of that period, which thus represents the “person” of Saturn ~ the Sun as the first decan of the sign of Leo!?. A striking hypothesis, powerfully presented, is not, however, readily abandoned; and it was partly because of the identification of this Mithraic figure with Zurvan that R. Ghirshman saw Zurvan, together with Ohrmazd and Ahriman, in a winged figure with two smaller beings emerging from his shoulders depicted on a Luristan bronze of the eighthseventh centuries B.C.!? This figure is at the centre of a group. Nothing is known of the putatively Iranian makers of this bronze (and another related metal piece), nor yet of the local culture which they presumably encountered. That Iranians should have chosen to make representations of their own gods at so early a date appears unlikely, and certainly needs stronger evidence to establish it as a possibility than a highly imaginative interpretation of a wholly unfamiliar scene. Yet this interpretation was accepted by more than one scholar as proof of Nyberg’s otherwise purely speculative thesis of a pre-Zoroastrian Zurvan!#. -Zurvan has also been seen in the “Ancient of days” of Daniel 7.9; but this identification too seems

unfounded,

since there are strong indica-

tions that the vision in which the “Ancient” appears has Canaanite antecedents !*. In 1949 W.B. Henning, combating Nyberg’s theory of an Old Iranian Zurvan, firmly restated the essentials of Spiegel’s analysis!°, which had already been endorsed by O. von Wesendonk and A. Christensen !?; but unfortunately for the progress of Zurvanite studies R.C. Zaehner in his massive monograph!® pursued a genially eclectic course, adopting at different stages of his work almost every theory which had by then been advanced on the subject. He began indeed by presenting Zurvanism as Spiegel had done !°; but then, following Cumont, linked it with the Mithraic mysteries, and thence with daëva-worship?°. Later, with no attempt at reconciling these interpretations with his first one, he saw Zurvan as an ancient western Iranian god, the counterpart of an eastern Iranian Vayu?!; as a sky god who was also an earth god; as a god of death??; and as the macrocosm??. Like Nyberg, whom he was largely following, he embedded in all such dubious matter nuggets of learning and shrewd observation; but the general impression given by his book was that Zurvanism was of huge complexity, a cloudy, confused subject not to be pinned down with any clarity as to either date or doctrine.

22

MARY BOYCE

A more lucid and integrated analysis --and necessarily therefore briefer-- was rapidly provided by U. Bianchi?*. He upheld the opinion that Zurvanism was a Zoroastrian movement of Achaemenian date, but

like von Wesendonk?5 saw it as having a Greek as well as a Babylonian component even at that early epoch. The Greeks, he thought, had provided it with the concept of arche “beginning, first principle” *°; and Zurvan he compared with Ouranos as a theogonical but not a ruling god’. Meanwhile the over-large claims by Zaehner for the importance of Zurvanism led R.N. Frye to go to another extreme. After toying in his turn with various theories, he committed

himself to a new

one of his

own, namely that Zurvanism was little more than speculation about time, indulged in in the Sasanian period by the upper classes and the court?®, and this he was still maintaining in 1984. This reductive interpretation can hardly be said to cover the facts; but much the same course has been followed by Sh. Shaked, except that he sees it rather as a popular variant of Zoroastrianism, “‘not sanctioned by the established clergy”, and quite unorganised?°. He based this idea of its popular origins largely on what he considered to be the “theologically naive” nature of some of the recorded Zurvanite myths. Yet Manichaeism made use of some remarkably primitive-seeming myths in support of its intricate doctrines; and Nyberg was surely right (with others) in regarding Zurvanism as typically the fruit of priestly speculation*®. (He in fact made the same observation as Shaked about the nature of certain of its myths, but deduced from this instead their descent from a remote antiquity, against which see, justly, H. Corbin?!.) One reason for denying any importance to Zurvanism is that this helps to account for its later disappearance. Even in the Persian rivdyats only one Zurvanite statement has been identified: ““Ormazd and Ahriman became manifest through time (az zamäne)”;, and this is qualified by the gloss: “Ormazd became manifest through the abundance of his own selfhood (be afzüni az xodiy-e xod)”, which reasserts the orthodox doctrine of his self-existence??. Among the Parsis Anquetil du Perron found that knowledge of Zurvan was limited to awareness of references to him as an ancient king, exemplar of longevity, in the Pazand introductions to two äfrins??. Moreover, it is true that much of the material adduced by Zaehner to attest the prevalence of Zurvanism in Sasanian times can be discarded as relating merely to time in general, or to time as the instrument of Ohrmazd. Yet much solid proof remains of the existence of Zurvanite

beliefs, and these can indeed L

be traced

FURTHER

REFLECTIONS

ON ZURVANISM

23

back to the Achaemenian era. Cumont had good grounds for holding that the Iranian religion in Asia Minor then was Zurvanite; for wherever there are sufficient data to judge from, they show that the Zoroastrianism which survived there after Alexander, as a legacy from the days of the Persian Empire, was of that tendency34. When Cumont first wrote, this was known of Cappadocia, on the testimony of Bishop Basil, and of Level Cilicia, on that of Bishop Theodore of Mopsuestia, both of the fourth century?5, in whose dioceses the religion of the magousaioi was still stubbornly thriving. Basil, who had been asked about the supposed descent of these people from Abraham, reported that the magi (i.e. their priests36) had told him nothing about that, but that “in fact they claim a certain Zarnuas as the founder of their race”. Whether his reporting here is quite accurate, it is impossible to tell?’. Theodore, who was concerned with refuting doctrine, provides more detail (even in Photius’ meagre summary of his work). “Zarouam”, he records, also called “Fortune” (Tyche), was “the originator of everything. ... And when he was making a libation in order that Hormisdas might be born to him, the latter was born, together with Satan”. This is one version of the basic Zurvanite myth, which embodies always the monistic heterodoxy that evil is not a force wholly strange and external to good, but has been generated with good by the supreme being, Zurvan*$. The myth is recorded in diverse forms in Sasanian and early Islamic times??; and there seems no need to seek (as has been done*°) for a single textual source for it. Bishop Theodore, a redoubted polemicist who was attacking a living religion, may reasonably be supposed to have heard it from Zurvanite magi in his own diocese; and it is likely to have been known in one form or another to intelligent Zurvanites everywhere, laity as well as priests. The doctrine taught by this myth made Zurvanism indeed, as Zaehner characterized it, a ‘‘major heresy’’*!; and hence it can only have become prominently and securely established among the Zoroastrians of these Achaemenian satrapies with support from the throne. The probability has accordingly been suggested that its spread is to be linked with the adoption of the Zoroastrian calendar, and the further-

ance of an image cult, as one of the major religious innovations of the long reign of Artaxerxes II (404-358 B.C.)*?. Yet even with royal backing, Zurvanism must have needed vigorous propaganda to make it acceptable; and this was presumably the work of priestly proselytizers, men of conviction who visited satraps and local magi and entered into

24

MARY BOYCE

persuasive discussion with them, expounding the new doctrine. Their success is proved by the fact that Zurvanism took such firm root that in Cilicia and Cappadocia it was still the dominant form of Zoroastrianism there some 700 years after the ending of Persian suzerainty. From this it seemed reasonable to infer, as Cumont did, that Zurvan-

ism had been established under Achaemenian rule in all the Zoroastrian communities of Asia Minor. Subsequently the probability of this was increased by the identification of Zurvanite elements in the Qumran writings, part evidently of a debt to Zoroastrianism incurred by fringe groups of Jews more generally*?. This suggested that Zurvanism had also flourished (as was to be expected) among the Zoroastrians of Babylonia and Syria. Further, a Zurvanite passage was noted in the great inscription of Antiochus I of Commagene (69-c.31 B.C.). His kingdom was bordered by Syria, Cilicia, Cappadocia and Armenia (where Zurvanism is attested in Sasanian times); and his family, a branch of the Orontids, claimed descent from a daughter of Artaxerxes II. It would have been remarkable, therefore, if the Zoroastrianism

of

Commagene had not been Zurvanite. The passage in question occurs in the preamble to the regulations (nomos) of Antiochus’ cult, in which he declares: “It is commanded to the generations of all men whom Boundless Time (Chronos apeiros) shall, through its destiny for the life of each, set in later possession of this land, that they keep it inviolate’ +4. Chronos apeiros, it was pointed out, exactly renders Avestan Zurvan akarana, and is duly represented here as an active and conscious force, controlling the fates of generations. Schaeder also saw the four great gods of Antiochus’ cult as symbolising the tetramorphous Zurvan; but this appears more doubtful*°®. Although Antiochus’ cult was a syncretism, the case has been argued for its having been shaped by his magi, and being Iranian in its framework and main features*’. The Orontids and their priests can reasonably be supposed to have maintained a Zurvanite form of Zoroastrianism from early in the fourth century B:C., so that by Antiochus’ day it had a three-hundred-year-old tradition behind it. Unfortunately in his inscriptions the king was more concerned with the regulations and endowments for his cult than with doctrine, this having presumably barely changed; and one passage shows strikingly how the moral theology of Zoroastrian dualism survived the imposition of Zurvanite monism. In it Antiochus assures those who are free of unrighteousness and zealous for holy works, and who maintain his cult, that ““Zeus-Oromasdes” will hearken to their prayers, and that he and

FURTHER

REFLECTIONS

ON ZURVANISM

25

other divinities will be fellow-fighters with them in their good undertakings*®. This concept of the beneficent gods fighting beside righteous people, implicitly against evil, is, it is agreed, a wholly Zoroastrian one, rooted in that religion’s cosmic and ethical dualism; and it was evidently unaffected by Zurvanism, because according to that heterodoxy Zurvan

withdrew,

his sons

having

been

born,

and

left Ohrmazd

to

become creator and to contend against Ahriman, good against evil, as in Zoroaster’s own teachings. There would not even have been the alien element of astral determinism in early Zurvanite belief, since this belongs to the astrology of Hellenistic times. The lion-horoscope of Antiochus’ cult appears to be in the older tradition of Babylonian celestial divination, in which heavenly phenomena were regarded as a means by which the gods declared their will to men, with no power of causation being attributed to the stars themselves*°. There is nothing to suggest that the magi of Commagene, even though hellenised, were familiar with the theories of Greco-Roman horoscopic astrology, with their Aristotelian underpinning; and it is noteworthy that in the only account of Zurvanism from pre-Sasanian times, that attributed by Damascius to Eudemos of Rhodes (of the fourth century B.C.)°°, there is mention of time and place, but none of fate, that element in its

doctrine being seemingly less prominent then. Antiochus further expresses the orthodox hope that at death his spirit will ascend to the throne of ‘“‘Zeus-Oromasdes’’*!; and his trust in the gods whom he worshipped implies the larger hope also that one day they with the righteous will triumph over evil. His inscriptions in fact attest what had been generally surmised, namely that adoption of Zurvanism did not change the effective beliefs of Zoroastrians or their expectations of the future, both of which moulded their actual conduct.

The monistic belief in Time which it superimposed, although theologically important, was evidently of limited influence on its adherents’ lives. It may also be reasonably presumed that it brought about no change in their rituals of worship, which they, like the orthodox, would

still have offered, directly or through the lesser yazatas, to Ohrmazd the Creator. With the same forms of worship, the same ethical principles, and to a large extent a common body of belief, Zurvanites and the orthodox evidently co-existed for many centuries, sharing the name of Mazdaworshippers but still (as Muslim writers later attested) being conscious to some degree’of a difference in theology. Only one Pahlavi passage, it *?; has been noted, expresses orthodox hostility to Zurvanite doctrine

26

MARY BOYCE

and under the Sasanians open polemic was presumably held in check by the power

of the throne,

for the testimony

of Christian

and Mani-

chaean sources shows that Zurvanism was professed by the Sasanian kings themselves, part presumably of a western Iranian tradition going back to Achaemenian times*?. It used to be generally assumed that Zurvanism vanished almost immediately after the Arab conquest, but better knowledge of the Muslim sources shows that this was not so. Down to the tenth century A.D. Muslim polemic against Zoroastrianism was often directed against Zurvanite beliefs°*. This may have been partly because the doctrinal weaknesses of the heterodoxy made these the easier target; but a redoubtable fighter like ‘Abd al-Jabbar (932-1025) would not have wasted his attacks on a non-existent foe. Thereafter little notice was taken of any form of Zoroastrianism by the Muslims of Iran, and Zurvanism did entirely disappear. Perhaps the battering ram of Muslim argument had shaken the convictions of some Zurvanites and made them more open to representations by their orthodox co-religionists; and doubtless ever-increasing poverty and hardship concentrated thoughts generally on Zoroaster’s own teachings, and the hope of salvation. Orthodoxy had clearly never surrendered to Zurvanism, despite the royal patronage which the latter enjoyed; and in the end its triumph may well have been due above all to its inherent strength, that “chronic vigour” which Cardinal Newman held to be one of the tests of religious validity. I

NOTES ! Textes et monuments relatifs aux mystères de Mithra, I, Brussells, 1899, pp. 8, 20, 78,

85, 234. 2 The most detailed and fundamental criticisms have been by S. Wikander, Études sur les mystères de Mithras, Lund, 1951, and R.L. Gordon, “Frantz Cumont doctrines of Mithraism”, Mithraic Studies, ed. J.R. Hinnells, Manchester,

and the 1975, I,

pp. 215-248. For an admirable survey of the state of the subject see R. Beck, “Mithraism since Frantz Cumont”, ANRW 11.17.4, 1984, pp. 2002-2115. 3 Eranische Alterthumskunde II, Leipzig, 1873, pp. 4-12, 182-187. * Die Religionen des Alten Iran, tr. by H.H. Schaeder, Leipzig, 1938, repr. 1966, p. 390 with n. 1. > Op.cit., pp. 25, 105, 380 ff. $ E.g. Die Religionen Irans, Stuttgart, 1965, p. 219. 7 “Reflections on the origins of the Mithraic Mysteries”, Perennitas, Studi in onore di A. Brelich, Rome, 1980, pp. 654 f.; cf. his earlier “The Mithraic mysteries in the GrecoRoman world, with special regard to their Iranian background”, La Persia e il mondo greco-romano, Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei 363, Rome, 1966, pp. 441 f.

FURTHER REFLECTIONS ON ZURVANISM 8 See in detail J.R. Hinnells, “Reflections on the lion-headed

Dr] figure in Mithraism”,

Monumentum H.S. Nyberg 1, Acta Iranica 4, 1975, pp. 333-369. ° See R. Beck, “Interpreting the Pontic Zodiac: II’, Journal of Mithraic Studies, 2, 1978, pp. 107-116. ‘© For the bibliography and arguments see Beck, ANRW II.17.4, pp. 2034-2035, 2088. 11 J. Duchesne-Guillemin, ‘“Aiön et le Léontocéphale, Mithras et Ahriman”, La Nouvelle Cleo, X, 1960, pp. 1-8; C. Colpe in Cambridge History of Iran II, ed. E. Yarshater, 1983, p. 855. 1? Beck, Planetary gods and planetary orders in the Mysteries of Mithras, EPRO 109, Leiden, 1988, pp. 99-100. 13 “Le Dieu Zurvan sur les bronzes du Luristan”, Artibus Asiae, 21, 1958, pp. 37 ff.;

see further

his /ran-Protoiranier,

Meder,

Achameniden,

Munich,

1964, pp. 51-2 with

Abb.63, 64; p. 70 with Abb. 91. '* Duchesne-Guillemin, “Explorations dualistes avec Ugo Bianchi”, L’Antiquite Classique, XXVIII, 1959, p. 291 (with modifications to Ghirshman’s interpretation); J. de Menasce, “Reflexions sur Zurvän”, A Locust’s Leg, Studies in Honour of S.H. Tagizadeh, ed. W.B. Henning and E. Yarshater, London, 1962, p. 184; Colpe, “Ugo Bianchi/Il Dualismo Religioso und Zaman i Ohrmazd”, Göttingische Gelehrte Anzeigen, 222, 1970, p. 19.

15 For the extensive literature on this see O. Eissfeldt, The Old Testament, an introduction, tr. P.A. Ackroyd, Oxford, 1965, p. 526 n. 47; J.J. Collins, “The Mythology of Holy War in Daniel and the Qumran

War Scroll”,

Vetus Testamentum,

p. 601 n. 23; A. Hultgärd, “Das Judentum in der hellenistisch-römischen iranische Religion”, ANRW 11.19.1, 1979, pp. 535-536. 16 Zoroaster,

politician

or witch-doctor?,

Ratanbai

Katrak

Lectures

XXV,

1975,

Zeit und die 1949,

Oxford,

1951, p. 49. 17 For references see below, note 41. 18 Zurvan, a Zoroastrian dilemma, Oxford, 1955, repr. New York, 1972.

Lal 20 21 22 23

bideappas 20) Ibid., pp. 19-20. Ibid., pp. 80 ff. Jbid., pp. 239-242. Tbid., p. 242.

24 Zaman i Ohrmazd, Turin, 1958, Part III (pp. 149 ff). 25 Das Weltbild der Iranier, Munich, 1933, p. 257. 222 Opicit:, pals;

3

27 Ibid., pp. 241-243. 28 “Zurvanism again”, Harvard Theological Review, LIl, 1959, pp. 63-73; The History of Ancient Iran, Munich,

1984, p. 321 with n. 97.

29 The Wisdom of the Sasanian Sages (Denkard VI), Persian Heritage Series, ed. E. Yarshater, no. 34, Boulder, Colorado,

1979, p. xxxiv.

3° Op.cit., p. 388. = 31 Nyberg, ibid., p. 380; Corbin, “Le temps cyclique dans le mazdéisme

et dans

l’ismaelisme”, Eranos-Jahrbuch XX, 1951, p. 166 n. 38.

32 Persian text given by B.N. Dhabhar, The Persian Rivayats of Hormazyar Framarz and others, Bombay, 1932, p. 438 (who pointed out that the passage was an attempt to explain away Zurvanite doctrine); Eng. tr. and commentary by Zaehner, op.cit., p. 418. 33 Zend Avesta, ouvrage de Zoroastre, Paris, 1771, II, pp. 90, 99.

34 Cumont, op.cit., pp. 9-10. 35 The Greek texts are conveniently op.cit., pp. 447, 448 (G 29):

reproduced,

with bibliography,

by Zaehner,

28

MARY BOYCE

36 His usage proves that sometimes at least the term magousaioi was used, like majüs in Islamic times, for Zoroastrians generally, with magoi being specifically for their priests. Misunderstanding of this fact has led to the odd assumption by Western scholars that “flocks of magi” migrated to Asia Minor without the support there of aZoroastrian laity, on which see Boyce, A History of Zoroastrianism (Hb. d. Orientalistik, ed. B. Spuler, 1.viii.1.2.2A), II, Leiden, 1982, pp. 230-231. 37 Zaehner (op.cit., p. 113) assumed that it was, comparing Moses of Chorene I.9 (see his p. 144, note B); and he found in this apparent tradition of Zurvan as the ancestor of man justification for his theory that he was regarded as the macrocosm. It seems possible, however, that in Bishop Basil’s case some confusion arose through his inquiries about Abraham.

38 This is admirably treated by Corbin, art.cit., pp. 154-155. On the debasing of the myth’s original forms by polemicists see ibid., p. 166. 39 See Zaehner, op.cit., pp. 421-441, 451; G. Monnot, Penseurs musulmans et religions iraniennes, Abd al-Jabbär et ses devanciers, Paris, 1974, pp. 255 ff.

40 See Zaehner, op. cit., pp. 419-421. 41 Ibid., p. 5. Cf. von Wesendonk, op.cit., p. 258 (“die zervanische Lehre ... mit der alten Doktrin Zarathuëtras nicht mehr zu tun hat’); Nyberg, op.cit., p. 384 (“strenge Zoroastrier im Westen haben sich immer gegen die zervanistische Fassung des [Zwillings] mythos verwahrt’); Christensen, L’/ran sous les Sassanides, 2nd ed., Copenhagen, 1944, p. 154 (“une conception ... contraire au caractère fondamental du Zoroastrisme”); Corbin, art.cit., pp. 163-168, 171 (“il reste dans le schéma du zervanisme ... quelque chose d’irreductible à l'exigence mazdéenne’’). 42 Boyce, op.cit., pp. 240-241. 43 See with bibliography Boyce in M. Boyce and F. Grenet, A History of Zoroastrianism, II, Ch,10 (in press), and cf. G. Gnoli, “L'évolution probleme zurvanite”, RHR

du dualisme

iranien et le

CCI, 1984, pp. 137-138.

44 Nfimrud Dagh] 111-115 )(excerpted by Zaehner, op.cit., pp. 449-450). 45 H.H. Schaeder, Urform und Fortbildungen des manichäischen Systems, Vorträge der Bibliothek Warburg, 1924-1925, pp. 139-40. This interpretation of the lines, first proposed by H. Gressmann, was endorsed by J.H. Moulton, Early Zoroastrianism, London, 1913, repr. 1972, p. 107; J. Bidez and F. Cumont, Les mages hellenises, Paris, 1938, I, pp. 67-68; Nyberg, op.cit., p. 390; Christensen, op.cit., p. 149; von Wesendonk, op.cit., p. 257; and Widengren, op.cit., p.219. The two latter went further, following H. Junker, Über iranische Quellen der hellenistischen Aion-Vorstellung, Vorträge der Bibl. Warburg 19211922, p. 151, who had understood them in the same way, but had sought also to see a reference to the Zoroastrian concept of limited time, Zurvan i dagrand xwadäy, in Antiochus’ wish, expressed earlier in the same inscription, that his body might rest in its tomb “for countless ages” eis ton apeiron aiona. (N 20, text with German tr. in H. Waldmann, Die kommagenischen Kultreformen, EPRO 34, Leiden, 1973, pp. 64/72). A. Nock (Harvard Theological Review, 27, 1934, pp. 80-81) reasonably objected, however, that the use in both passages of the adjective apeiros (with, moreover, a different substantive) hardly bore out this interpretation. On these grounds Duchesne-Guillemin, Ormazd et Ahriman, Paris, 1953, pp. 123-124, rejected a Zurvanite interpretation for either passage; but because Junker pressed the case too far is no good reason for doubting the

Zurvanite character of Il. 111-115. Subsequently a classicist, H. Dörrie, questioned the interpretation of chronos apeiros as a proper name in these lines on the grounds that chronos is used elsewhere in Antiochus’ inscriptions as the common noun “time” (see his Der Königskult des Antiochos von Kommagene, Göttingen, 1964, pp. 194-196); but in the Avesta zurvän also appears as both a common noun and the name of the god of Time, the context being the defining factor. *° Thus even Zaehner, himself a perhaps over-ardent discoverer of Zurvanite tetrads, was doubtful about this one (op.cit., p. 31).

FURTHER REFLECTIONS ON ZURVANISM

29

#7 Boyce, loc.cit. in n. 43. Otherwise Colpe, Cambridge History of Iran III, pp. 842-

843. 48 Arsameia 248-256 (Waldmann, op.cit., pp. 89/95-96). 4° See F. Rochberg-Halton, “Elements of the Babylonian contribution to Hellenistic astrology”, JAOS 108, 1988, pp. 51-62. 5° Apud Zaehner, op.cit., p. 447.

>! N 36-44 (Waldmann, op.cit., pp. 64/72). 5? DkM 829.1 ff. (Zaehner, op.cit., pp. 429-30, with bibliography; cf. his pp. 80-81). 53 Even before the Manichaean evidence was known Spiegel, op.cit., II, p. 184, noted that at this period Zurvanite beliefs were widely held, and by highly placed persons. Von Wesendonk, Das Wesen der Lehre Zarathustras, Leipzig 1927, pp. 19-20, established that in certain reigns the kings themselves could be shown to be Zurvanites; and Christensen, op.cit., pp. 150 and ff., drew from this fact the reasoned inference that this was the standard form of Zoroastrianism in their time, i.e. that it was the belief of their whole dynasty. The success of the Sasanians’ own propaganda (unwittingly but admirably furthered by Firdowsi) that they were the defenders of the true Zoroastrian faith has made this generally unacceptable however; and Zaehner reverted implausibly to von Wesendonk’s theory, see op.cit, pp. 35ff., with, contra, Boyce, ‘Some reflections on Zurvanism’, BSOAS XIX, 1957, pp. 304-308; Zoroastrians, their Religious Beliefs and Practices, 3rd revised reprint, London, 1987, pp. 112-113, 117, 118-120. In Cambridge History of Iran, III, Frye (pp. 140, 149), Duchesne-Guillemin (pp. 886, 887, 895-896, 899, 901-902), and Asmussen (pp. 937-938) all, with varying degrees of firmness, attribute orthodoxy to the Sasanians, but without (to judge from their published texts) having given full consideration to all the data. 54 Monnot, op.cit. in n. 39, p. 254 n. 2.

JAMSHEED

GESTURE

K. CHOKSY

IN ANCIENT IRAN AND CENTRAL THE RAISED HAND

ASIA I:

Symbolic gesture served as a means by which devotion and adoration were displayed in antiquity.* The gestures were familiar social acts and their symbolic valence would have been comprehended by most classes of the society!. Indeed, use of gesture would have reinforced the social hierarchy by figuring forth, in both public and private, the position of an individual within the religious cosmos and the secular state. The present study examines one form of votive and deferential gesture used in ancient Iran and Central Asia: the raised hand with the palm turned sideward or outward. The cultural parameters within which this gesture will be examined are those of ancient Iran during the periods when the country was ruled by the Achaemenians (549-330 B.C.E.), the Parthians or Arsacids (247 B.C.E.-224 C.E.), the minor dynasties, and the Sasanians (224-651 C.E.). Attention also will be paid to the Indo-Bactrian, Indo-Parthian,

and other dynasties of eastern

Iran and Central Asia.

The development, function, and significance of this gesture over a span of one thousand two hundred years is analysed using extant evidence from

the imperial coinages,

seals, rock

and: bas reliefs, and

textual

descriptions. It must be noted that gestures often possessed different symbolic meanings that were dependent upon the context in which a gesture was used?. The study of gesture in ancient Iranian society provides an opportunity for descriptive analysis in a chronological framework. It also enables the modern scholar to apprehend the continuity of social relationships within archaic communities. Little attention has been paid, by scholars other than Richard N. Frye, to the Near Eastern precedents of the raised hand and its variations under the Achaemenians, Parthians, and Sasanians°. The gesture of the raised hand with the palm turned sideward or outward was widely practiced in the ancient Near East prior to the migration of the proto-Iranians onto the Iranian plateau. It is attested in sacrificial contexts from ritual texts, where the gesture is referred to by the Assyrian verb kardbu, “to pray, worship, pronounce adoration, bless*.” The raised hand with the palm turned sideward also was

THE RAISED HAND

31

depicted on several Middle Elamite (ca. 1300-1100 B.C.E.) gold and silver figurines from Susa that bear sacrificial offerings (Fig. 1). The range of its application, to judge from the Assyrian verb, included worship or reverence to deities, submission and homage to kings, and blessing from the gods. This gesture was assimilated into Iranian practice after the Achaemenian conquest of the Near East. Transfer of the gesture to the Achaemenians is attested by an agate cylinder seal that dates from the reign of Darius I (ruled 522-486 B.C.E.). This seal, which illustrates the overlap of cultural conventions, religious rites, and royal iconography between the Neo-Babylonians and the Achaemenians, bears an engraving of the royal hero in combat against two mythical beasts while a priest performs worship with raised hand before an altar’. The few extant Achaemenian inscriptions in Old Persian, Akkadian, and Elamite make no reference to the function or use of this gesture, and the

royal coinage—darics and sigloi—do not bear representations of the raised hand. However, the gesture was carved on rock reliefs commissioned by Achaemenian monarchs at Behistun and Naqsh-e Rostam in the province of Fars. The relief that accompanies Darius I’s victory inscription at Behistun depicts the monarch standing, facing right (Fig. 2). Approaching the king from the right are the figures of captured rebels, while Gaumata the usurper, whom Darius vanquished, lies prostrate under the king’s left foot. Hovering above the heads of the captives is a winged figure or symbol often identified as the symbol of Ahura Mazda, the chief creator deity of the Zoroastrian pantheon®. The winged figure extends a plain diadem or ring, representing victory, to the triumphant monarch’. Darius’ right hand is raised to face level with the palm turned outward toward this divine winged symbol. In the victory inscription Darius attributes his success, and his kingship itself, to the grace of Ahura Mazda: “Darius the king said: ‘I am king by the will of Ahuramazda. Ahuramazda granted me kingship®.’” Similarly, Darius I was presented, on the relief above his rock tomb at

Nagsh-e

Rostam,

standing

with

raised

hand,

the

palm

turned

sideward, facing a fire altar above which hovers the winged symbol of Ahura Mazda (Fig. 3). The platform on which the king and altar rest is supported by figures that represent the various peoples of the empire. The

fire altar was,

of course,

the standard

icon of ancient

Iranian

religion. Thus, the scene depicts the monarch performing a votive act. In accompanying inscriptions, the monarch bestows reverence, praise, and propitiation upon Ahura Mazda, while acknowledging his (the

32

JAMSHEED K. CHOKSY

king’s) own mortality and dependence upon the grace of the gods’. This relief was duplicated above the rock tombs of later Achaemenian rulers!°. Cylinder seals from this period frequently depict dual images of the royal hero or priests performing worship with the raised hand in the presence of the winged figure or beside a fire altar above which hovers either the winged figure or the winged disc!!. Additionally, a fourth century B.C.E. chalcedony cylinder seal, found at Gorgippa, presents an Achaemenian monarch with raised hands worshipping a goddess (perhaps Anahita) who is standing upon a lion’s back’?. Therefore, the available evidence indicates that the raised hand with

the palm held outward or sideward was reserved for worship by rulers and other devotees in the presence of symbols, altars, and icons of the gods during the Achaemenian era. There is no indication that it served as a sign of submission to the will of kings. However, several representations of the winged figure on the rock reliefs and seals depict the deity also raising the right hand with palm held sideward (Figs. 2-3). Clearly, the winged figure was not meant to be portrayed paying homage or worship to Achaemenian monarchs, nor did the kings ever lay claim to deification or divine origin. Consequently, whenever the raised hand was utilized by a divine being or symbol it must have served as a gesture of blessing!?. Indeed, the dual context in which the gesture was employed by the Achaemenians reflects the range of its Assyrian, Babylonian, and Elamite forerunner. Evidence for this gesture has survived in-Iran from the Parthian period. A rock relief at Khong-e Nawruzi (Tang-e Nawruzi) in Khuzestan may depict use of the raised hand gesture, but the relief is too weatherworn to determine the context in which the gesture was employed!*. However, second century C.E. marble statues from Hatra of Arab

princes, such as Sanatrüg, who were

vassals of the Parthian

monarchs, preserve use of the raised right hand as a gesture of worship, as does the rock relief of the Parthian monarch Orodes at Tang-e Sarvak, and a stone statue from Shami!*. Coins minted by the kings of Persis (ca. 250 B.C.E.-224 C.E.) richly attest to employment of the raised hand with the palm turned outward or sideward as a sign of reverence for the gods. Drachmas and hemidrachmas minted by Artaxshahr I (Artaxerxes I) (ruled ca. 250-200 B.C.E.) bear the king’s bust facing right on the obverse and a depiction of Artaxshahr with raised right hand, palm turned sideward, standing before an altar on the reverse!®. The reverse Aramaic inscription usually reads Artaxsahr frataraka i alah(i)a, “Artaxerxes, governor of

THE RAISED HAND

33

the gods'’.” A later king, Darius I (ruled ca. 160-100 B.C.E.) portrayed himself with raised right hand, the palm held sideward, facing an altar

- above which hovers the winged symbol of Ahura Mazda with hand raised in blessing - on the reverse on his coins (Fig. 4). Hence, paralleling the Achaemenian tomb relief of his namesake Darius I the Great, Darius the king of Persis was shown with raised hand in worship before the altar and divine symbol. The coin inscription was simplified to read Därayaw MLKA, “Darius, the king.” The reverse motif gradually became stylized, but its basic form remained constant. Hence, Vadfradad (Autophradates) II, who succeeded Darius to the throne of Persis, duplicated both the votive scene and the titulary on the reverse

of his drachmas, although his raised right hand is turned toward the altar'®. Finally, Namupat (ruled ca. 30 B.C.E.) was depicted on the reverse of hemidrachmas and drachmas facing two celestial symbols, a star, probably Sirius (TiStar), and a crescent, perhaps representing the moon god Mah (Fig. 5)!°. The king’s right hand is extended with the palm held outward in devotion on these coin portraits. The numismatic evidence from Persis thus clearly indicates that this gesture was consistently employed by devotees during acts of worship. In eastern Iran, the gesture of worship with the raised hand was reproduced on coins issued by the Indo-Bactrian ruler Hippostratus (ruled ca. 80-60 B.C.E.) at Taxila. A tetradrachma piece bears the king’s bust facing right on the obverse, together with the legend BAXTAEQS METAAOY ZOTHPOZ INNOZTPATOY. The reverse shows the king, mounted and facing right, with his hand raised (Fig. 6). The accompanying Kharosthi legend mahäräjasa tratarasa jayamtasa hipustratasa echoes the claims made in Greek. Later, the Indo-Parthian

emperor Gondophares (ruled ca. 26-45 C.E.) had himself depicted with raised hand, the palm turned outward, mounted on a horse facing right (Fig. 7)?°. This image, on the obverse of Gondophares’ billon tetradrachmas, is enclosed by the legend BACIAEWC BACIAEWN METI AAOV YNAO@EPPOY. The reverse shows Zeus, facing right, holding a long sceptre. The reverse legend states mahäraja räjatiräja tratara devavrata gudapharasa. Likewise, the early Kushan ruler known as Söter Megas, the “Great Saviour,” (ruled ca. 64-78 C.E.) was depicted on billon tetradrachmas from Taxila (Fig. 8). The king is mounted, with raised right hand, the palm held out, on an obverse which bears the Greek legend BACIAEVWN CWTHP MET AC?!. Zeus stands with a sceptre and staff in his hands on the reverse which bears the Kharosthi legend mahäräjasa rajatirajasa mahatasa tratarasa. The pres-

34

JAMSHEED

K. CHOKSY

ence of deities on the reverses of these coins, together with the Iranian tradition of utilizing the gesture as a token of worship and blessing, makes it unlikely that the rulers sought to project imperial triumph through the raised hand. Members of the Sasanian royal family served as eastern provincial governors, called the kusänsäh, “king of the Kushans,” in the third and fourth centuries C.E., and produced the gesture of the raised hand on their coins??. The reverse type of a dinar (denär) issued by the provincial governor Hormizd I Kusänsäh (governed ca. 277-286 C.E.), at the mint of Marv (mlwy), bears an image of the governor on the obverse. On the reverse, Hormizd was shown with raised hand, the palm turned

outward, in the presence of Mithra who wears his characteristic rayed crown (Fig.9). Mithra in turn extends a beribboned diadem, that symbolized legitimate rule, to the KuSansah?3. This coin was modeled along lines of the Sasanian imperial coinage (cf. Figs. 9 and 10). It was on the silver coinage (drahm) of many Sasanian sahdansah, “king of kings,” however, that the raised hand with the palm turned sideward or outward attained great prominence. The gesture was probably inherited by the Sasanians from the rulers of Persis whose last king Artaxerxes V defeated his Parthian overlord and ascended the throne of Iran as Ardashir I (ruled 224-240 C.E.). Attested on the reverse of the imperial coinage, the gesture was employed by Hormizd I (ruled 272-273 C.E.) to show his reverence for the god Mithra who was portrayed wearing the rayed crown and extending the beribboned diadem of sovereignity (Fig. 10). This reverse type, representing the king, fire altar, and deity, was based on the votive scenes of the coins

from Persis. Wahram II (ruled 276-293 C.E.) depicted the gesture on the reverse of some issues of his coins as a sign of veneration for the goddess Anahita, who can be identified by the beaver-headed

bonnet

she wears on the reverse right figure (Fig. 11). Both the obverse and reverse field representations of this goddess of Kingship, victory, and the waters, who was the patron deity of the Sasanian royal family, show her extending the beribboned diadem of sovereignty to the monarch?#. Thereafter, several Sasanian rulers, including Yazdagird I (ruled 399421 C.E.) and Yazdagird II (ruled 439-457 C.E.), produced drachmas, obols, and even copper coins that bore representations of this gesture?°. The obverses of these coins always depicted the royal bust facing right, while the reverses presented a dual image of the king on left and right raising his hand to the fire altar?°. By the reign of Pérôz I

THE RAISED HAND

35

(ruled 459-484 C.E.) this reverse motif became highly stylized, and was used on most issues from every known mint (Fig. 12). This practice continued under Walaxsh (ruled 484-488 C.E.), Kawäd I (ruled 484 C.E.; 488-497 C.E.; 499-531 C.E.), and Zämäsp (ruled 497-499 C.E.)?”.

Representation of this gesture, by which the king of kings and other devotees worshipped deities and religious icons, was finally discontinued by Xusrö I (ruled 531-579 C.E.) who introduced administrative and iconographic reforms. The numismatic data, presented above, provides unequivocal evidence for practice of the raised hand gesture with the palm turned outward or sideward in Sasanian Iran. The strictly regulated contexts in which the gesture was depicted reveals that it was reserved exclusively as a token of reverence for deities, altars, and icons of the Zoroastrian

faith. The present study of gesture in ancient Iranian and Central Asian societies has revealed that the raised hand with the palm turned outward or sideward served as the primary sign of reverence to deities from the Achaemenian to the Sasanian period. The gesture possessed a secondary value as a symbol of divine blessing under the Achaemenians and the kings of Persis. The Indo-Bactrians, Indo-Parthians, and Sasanians do not appear to have utilized the secondary form of the raised hand, and probably limited its symbolism to worship of deities. Multiple symbolism in gesture was not unique to the raised hand for it was also present in the gestures of proskynesis and the bent forefinger in Iran?®. Variability in function of the raised hand is even attested in Greco-Roman art, where it could serve as a form of benediction for deities and as a gesture of triumph or triumphal address by rulers ?°. Flexibility in meaning of these gestures permitted the participants to enact individual and communal relationships within a hierarchy of social status.

NOTES * The scholarship of Professor Ehsan Yarshater has ranged from ancient Iranian beliefs and practices to modern dialects. This article is offered, in gratitude, to a scholar and teacher who guided my fledgeling steps in Iranian Studies. ! Compare the use of gesture to denote social status in the Roman empire. See Richard Brilliant, Gesture and Rank in Roman Art: The Use of Gestures to Denote Status in Roman Sculpture and Coinage, Memoirs of the Connecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences, vol. 14 (New Haven: Connecticut Academy,

1963).

36

JAMSHEED K. CHOKSY 2 Raymond

Firth, Symbols:

Public and Private (Ithaca:

Cornell

University

Press,

1973), pp. 190, 260-261, 311-314, 318-327; and Brilliant, Gesture and Rank, pp. 17-19. 3 Richard N. Frye, “Gestures of Deference to Royalty in Ancient Iran,” /ranica Antiqua, 10 (1972), pp. 103-104. 4 The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, vol. 8, ed. A. Leo Oppenheim, Ignace J. Gelb, and others (Chicago: The Oriental Institute, 1971), pp. 192-198, and Mayer I. Gruber, Aspects of Nonverbal Communication in the Ancient Near East, 1 (Rome: Biblical Inst. Press, 1980) p. 169. The gesture is depicted on the Old Babylonian law stele of king Hammurabi (ruled ca. 1728-1686 B.C.E.) where it is used by the king to worship the god Shamash. See Pierre Amiet, Art of the Ancient Near East, trans. J. Shepley and C. Choquet (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1980), pl. 68. 5 Dominique Collon, First Impressions: Cylinder Seals in the Ancient Near East (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988), pp. 90-92 with fig. 418. 6 A. Shapur Shahbazi, ““An Achaemenid Symbol I: A Farewell to Fravahr and Ahuramazda,” Archäologische Mitteilungen aus Iran, 7 (1974), pp. 136-144, and “An Achaemenid Symbol II: Farnah, Fortune Symbolized,” Archdologische Mitteilungen aus Tran, 13 (1980), pp. 119-151, has argued that the winged figure depicted the Iranian concept of fortune or glory, a deified entity. Pierre Lecoq, “Un problème de religion achéménide: Ahura Mazda ou Xvarnah?” in Orientalia J. Duchesne-Guillemin Emerito Oblata, Acta Iranica, vol. 23 (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1984), pp. 301-326, however, has given reasons for the traditional view that the winged figure represented Ahura Mazda. 7 The symbolic association of the plain (unribboned) diadem with victory is discussed by Jamsheed K. Choksy in “A Säsänian Monarch, His Queen, Crown Prince, and Deities: The Coinage of Wahram II,” American Journal of Numismatics, | (1989). 8 Darius I, Behistun inscription 1, Il. 11-12; see also Il. 17-26. Text in Ronald G. Kent, Old Persian: Grammer, Texts, Lexicon, 2nd ed., American Oriental Series, vol. 33 (New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1953, reprint 1982).

° Darius I, Nagsh-e Rostam inscription a, Il. 1-8, 30-55, and Naqsh-e Rostam b, Il. 1-

5: 19 No tomb other than that of Darius I has an identifying inscription. See Wolfram Kleiss and Peter Calmeyer, “Das unvollendete achaemenidische Felsgräb bei Persepolis,” Archäologische

Mitteilungen

aus

Iran, 8 (1975),

pp. 81-98,

and

Peter Calmeyer,

“Zur

Genese altiranischer Motive III. Felsgräber,” Archäologische Mitteilungen aus Iran, 8 (1975), pp. 99-113, for hypotheses as to which Achaemenian monarchs these tombs belonged. 11 Erich F. Schmidt, Persepolis II: Contents of the Treasury and Other Discoveries (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1957), pp. 8-10 with pl.6 nos. 14-17 and pl. 7 nos. 22-23. Schmidt correctly identified the gesture as an “act of adoration or prayer.” See also P.R.S. Moorey, “Aspects of Worship and Ritual on Achaemenid Seals,” Archäologische Mitteilungen aus Iran, Ergänzungsband 6 (1979), p. 223 with figs. 2 b-d. 12 Moorey, “Aspects of Worship and Ritual,” pp. 223-224 with fig. 4; Collon, First Impressions, pp. 92-93 with fig. 432. & 13 Noted by Schmidt, Persepolis II, pp. 8-10. 14 See Malcolm A.R. Colledge, Parthian Art (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1977), pl 17: 15 Malcolm A.R. Colledge, The Parthians (London: Thames and Hudson, 1967), pp. 157-158, 232, with pl. 65, and Trudy S. Kawami, Monumental Art of the Parthian Period in Iran. Acta Iranica, vol. 26 (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1987), pp. 198-200, 217-218, with pls. 47, 66. Colledge accurately noted the significance of this gesture. 1° See Ehsan Yarshater, ed., The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 3, 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), pl. 10.3. 17 For a discussion of the title frataraka see Richard N. Frye, The History of Ancient Iran (Munich: C.H. Beck, 1984), p. 159, with references.

THE RAISED HAND

By)

18 Yarshater, ed., The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 3, 1, pl. 10.11. 1° The religious and mythic symbolism of Mah and Tiëtar is recorded in the Zoroastrian Greater Bundahisn ‘‘[Book of] Primal Creation.” For references see Jamsheed K. Choksy, “An Annotated Index of the Greater or Iranian Bundahisn (TD 2),” Studia Iranica, 15, 2 (1986), pp. 221-222, 230. 2° Michael Mitchiner, Oriental Coins and Their Values: The Ancient and Classical World 600 B.C.-A.D. 650 (London: Hawkins Publications, 1978), p. 361, is incorrect in stating that the king holds a whip (riding crop) in his hand. 21 Mitchiner, Oriental Coins and Their Values, p. 399, is incorrect in stating that Söter Megas bears a whip (riding crop). 22 These Sasanian governors are discussed by A.D.H. Bivar in “The History of Eastern Iran,” in The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 3, 1, ed. E. Yarshater (Cambridge University Press, 1983), pp. 209-212. 23 See Choksy, “A Sasanian Monarch,” for the symbolism of the beribboned diadem. 24 On the cult of Anahita see Marie Louise Chaumont,

‘‘Anahid:

The Cult and Its

Diffusion,” Encyclopaedia Iranica, Vol.1, 9, ed. Ehsan Yarshater (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1985), pp. 1006-1009. Mary Boyce, “The Lady and the Scribe: Some Further Reflections on Anahit and Tir,” in A Green Leaf: Papers in Honour of Professor Jes P. Asmussen, Acta Iranica, Vol. 28 (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1988) pp. 277-282, describes the fusion of Anahita, the Avestan water goddess, with Anahiti, the west Iranian goddess of victory, Kingship, and the planet Venus. 25 See Robert Göbl, Sasanian Numismatics, trans. P. Severin (Brunswick: Klinkhardt and Biermann,

1971), pls. 9.150, 10.165.

26 Robert Göbl, ‘“Sasanian Coins,” in The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 3, 1, ed. E. Yarshater (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), p.327, noted the double image of the king on the reverses of the coins. 27 Gôbl, Sasanian Numismatics, pls. 11.178-183,

185, 187, 189-190.

28 See Jamsheed K. Choksy, “‘Gesture in Ancient Iran and Central Asia II: Proskynesis and the Bent Forefinger,” (forthcoming). 29 Brilliant, Gesture and Rank, pp. 16-17, 47-48, 109-110, with figs. 1.84, 3.13.

Acknowledgements It is my Nancy M. funded by University. reproduced

pleasure to thank Michael L. Bates, Ian A. Carradice, Richard N. Frye, and Waggoner for their valuable suggestions. The research for this article was the American Numismatic Society and the Society of Fellows at Harvard Figure | was provided by the Louvre Museum (Paris). Figures 2 and 3 are with permission of the Oriental Institute (Chicago). Figures 4-12 are courtesy

of the American Numismatic Society (New York).

JEROME

W. CLINTON

THE STORY OF SAM SON OF NARIMAN AND THE BIRTH OF ZÄL The story of the birth of Zäl has been translated several times before,

most notably by Jules Mohl in his edition and translation of the text of the Shähnäma and by Arthur George and Edmond Warner in their English translation of the whole of the poem!. The present translation is occasioned by the publication of the first volume of the splendid new edition of the Shahnama by professor Djalal Khaleqi-Motlagh?. It is taken from a translation and commentary on the whole of the Sistani cycle which Iam now preparing. I offer it here in acknowledgement of the gratitude that all students of the Shähnama owe Professor Ehsan Yarshater for his generous and determined efforts to make the publication of this edition possible. This story of Zäl’s birth marks both the beginning of the cycle of stories that makes up the Sistanian material and the integration of that material into the epic sequence of the Iranian dynasties. That is, while there are brief but clear indications that the Sistanian heroes were honored and well-established members

of the royal court before this*,

the first narrative in which Sam or any other member of his line may be said to have a speaking part is the present one. As the first story in the cycle it casts an unusually long shadow. Sam, Zäl and Simorgh are all introduced in this story, and the theme of filicide, which will quickly take on such importance in the poem, makes its dramatic appearance here as well*. There are two parts to the story. The first (lines 41-164) begins with Sam’s longing for an heir and continues through the eventual reunion of father and son. The second part (lines 165-264) takes them to the court of Manuchehr and introduces Zal to the royal court where extraordinary honors are bestowed on him by the shah. The two parts come together with the second return of father and son to Zabol where Sam makes a full and complete apology for his treatment of Zal and formally accepts him into the life of the court of Sistan. I have included only the first part of the story here lest my contribution run too long. The line numbering is that of the edition.

THE BIRTH OF ZAL

39

INTRODUCTION

Sam’s extraordinary reaction to the birth of his son requires some comment. White hair signifies old age, of course, (z4/ means “‘ancient”’) but also wisdom.

However,

the women

of the palace and Sam see the

infant’s white hair only as something out of the ordinary, a freak of nature, and so a bad omen. To Sam it suggests demonic intervention. In line 63 when Sam describes his son what he says he sees is white hair and and a black body, that is, a rversal of the ideal of human beauty—

white/silvery skin and jet black hair. Only Sam perceives his son’s body as dark. Had it been so in fact, that would have been mentioned along

with the color of his hair. When Zäl is described as a young man (lines 89 and 149) the silvery whiteness of his skin is mentioned specifically as is the pitchy blackness of his eyes and brows. That is, the nurse speaks truly when she says that his sole flaw is the whiteness of his hair. That Sam alone should see the infant’s skin as dark as well seems to me evidence that his wits may have been clouded by some divine agency. Curiously, Sam calls neither for his wise men to interpret the meaning of this sign nor for his astrologers to cast the baby’s horoscope, as would be the usual procedure at the birth of any royal child. In the story of Siyavosh, for example, astrologers were consulted both at the birth of Siyavosh and at the feigned delivery by Sudaba of two monstrous, stillborn infants which she claims are the shah’s. It is worth

noting that in the latter case the court astrologers were able to prove that these “children of Ahriman” could not be of the shah’s line, or Sudaba’s>. : Sam does not consider this possibility, and when at last he consults his own astrologers as to the meaning of his dream (99) they give him excellent advice. Moreover, from their eagerness it is clear that they have been prepared to do so for some time (Then all among them, old and young, addressed/The paladin as with a ‘single tongue). Sam’s terrible and inhumane behavior here is also uncharacteristic and may be explained as part of a divine plan to the adoption by the Simorgh of the Sistanian line of heroes. In another context this would be seen as an etiological myth which relates how the Simorgh became the totem of

this clan. In line 60 Säm’s pleads with God to forgive him whatever sin this strange son is-punishment for. There is an irony in this is. Sam has

40

JEROME W. CLINTON

committed no sin, and God has not punished him but sent him the worthy heir he so greatly desires. Säm’s sin lies in what he is about to do, reject this gift of God. As has already been noted, this is the first appearance of Simorgh in the Shähnäma. In her benign aspect, she is associated exclusively with the heroes of Sistan. Her appearances are few but of great import. Here she saves the life of Zäl and takes him under her protection. Later, she mediates the birth of Rostam

(pages 266-67, lines 1444-74), and, near

the end of his life, she provides Rostam with the secret that allows him to slay Esfandiyar®.

THE STORY OF SAM SON OF NARIMAN

AND THE BIRTH OF ZAL

4]

A tale I'll tell you now, a wondrous tale That l’ve composed from ancient narratives. Attend me well and see how Fate once played Its tricks on Sam. Heed well these words, my son! Sam had no child, his heart longed for an heir. His palace held a lovely maid with roses In her cheeks and hair perfumed with musk. This beauteous moon gave Sam great hope. Her face

45

Some days went by. She was delivered ‘of A babe who shone in beauty like the worldIlluming sun. His face was lovely, but Each hair upon his infant head was white. And since the son she’d borne possessed this flaw For seven days no word was sent to Sam.

Glowed like the sun, and she was big with child.

The women

50

in his palace, one and all,

Wept night and day around the infant’s bed. None dared to tell the famous Sam the child * His lovely mate had borne was old at birth. There was a single nurse who lion-like Took heart at last and bravely spoke to him. “Heroic Sam,” she said, “May all your days Be bright! May arrows pierce the hearts of all Who wish you ill. Within the nursery Your lovely moon has born a perfect son. His body’s purest silver; his face

THE BIRTH OF ZAL

55

Is fair as spring. His limbs are perfect, and His single flaw is that his hair is white. Such is your fate, Oh brave and noble lord.”

The horseman Sam descended from his throne And hastened to the nursery where child And mother lay. He saw the babe, its snowy Hair, and Sam despaired of all the world. He turned his face toward the sky, and lifted Up his voice in argument with God, “Oh You who are above all faults and lies,

60

And who increases goodness by His wish. If I’ve been guilty of some grievous sin, Or if I’ve followed Ahriman’s beliefs’, Perhaps, Oh Maker of the World! You'll yet Forgive me for whatever wrong I’ve done. My darkened soul is writhing now in shame, And hot blood boils its way through all my veins. This child is like the seed of Ahriman,

65

His body’s black, his hair is jasmine white. Soon noble lords will come to visit me And ask about my son. What answer can I make to them about this monstrous child? What shall I say? He is a piebald leopard’s Cub, or Nubian’s whelp, or div?

This shame will drive me from the borders of Iran. I shall not praise this land again®.” He then commanded that they take the child And carry him far off from Zabol’s court— There was a place in which the Simorgh had Its nest, and where that infant was unknown.

They placed him on the mountan slope and turned Their steps once more toward home. A long time passed.

70

This infant paladin, this sinless child,

Who could not tell the color black from white— His father had betrayed the ties of love And blood, abandoning a suckling babe. An aged lionness said something on This score when she had filled her child with milk. “Although I nurse you with my own heart’s blood,

41

42

JEROME W. CLINTON

You need not show me gratitude for that. You are yourself a part of my own flesh. You’d break my heart if you should break with me.’

15

The Simorgh’s young grew ravenous at last, She lifted up her wings and left the nest. She saw an infant far below who’s cries Had set the land to tossing like the sea. Granite his cradle and the earth his nurse,

His body bare of clothes, his lips of milk, Around him black and barren earth, while high Above the sun had reached its highest point. Better that he’d been a leopard’s child So that he might be shaded from that sun.

80

Simorgh descended from the clouds and with Her talons seized the baby from the fiery Stone, then bore him swiftly flying to The peak of Mount Alborz, where lay her nest. She gave him to her young so they might feed On him, and give no heed to his lament. Yazdän, who holds within his soul, whatever

85

90

Is, and gives the good, reprieved the child. Simorgh with all her brood looked at that tiny Babe, whose eyes were dripping bloody tears, Amazed, they showered love upon the child, Enchanted by the beauty of his face. Whatever food was tenderest she chose For him, so he might chew it with his gums. A long time passed like this, and then one day God chose at last to make this secret known. When Zäl had reached his prime a caravan Passed by his mountain home. He stood as tall As any cypress tree. His chest was massy Silver and his waist a slender reed. And his description spread both far and wide. What’s good or ill will not stay hidden long.

’

THE BIRTH OF ZAL

SAM HAS A DREAM

Sam, son of Narimän, received as weil

95

100

News of this glorious and shining youth. One night when he had gone to bed with Burning heart, and troubled by the turns of fate, He had a dream in which an Indian warrior Came racing toward him on an Arab steed. As he approached within a pace or two of Sam, This brave and noble cavalier gave him Glad tidings of his son, that tall and fruitful Branch of his®. When he awoke Sam called The mobadan'° and spoke with them at length. He told them what he’d seen within his dream And all he’d heard from learned men besides. “What can you tell me of this tale?” he asked, “Does what you know accord with this report?” Then all among them, old and young, addressed The paladin as with a single tongue. “The lion and the leopard on dry ground, The fish and crocodiles who swım the sea,

All raise their young with care, and nurture them, And praise their lord, Yazdän, unceasingly. You broke your compact with our generous God And cruelly left a sinless child to die. Turn now to God in penitence for this. He is the only guide to what is rıght!!.”

105

When it grew dark, he thought of sleep. His heart’s Distress had made him eager for a sign. And in his dream he saw an Indian mountain Peak from which a lofty banner waved. A handsome youth appeared, behind whom marched A numerous host. A mobad rode upon His left, and on his right a famous sage. Of these two riders one alone approached, And spoke to Säm in words that chilled his heart. “You are so brave, and yet your heart is foul. You’ve washed your eyes and heart quite free of shame.

43

44 110

JEROME W. CLINTON

You’ve left it to this noble bird to nurse Your son!?, yet boast you are a paladin. You count white hair upon a man a sin,

Yet your own hair and beard are willow white. Rebuke the Lord of All since with each day He gives your body yet another hue. This child was held as nothing by his sire, And yet God thinks him worthy of His care. No nurse could care for him more tenderly. Within your heart there is no trace of love.”

115

The sleeping Säm roared out in fear and pain, As though he were a lion in a trap. When he awoke he called his counsellors,

120

And mounted them beside the army’s chiefs. He galloped toward that lofty peak, hoping To find the one he’d cast away. He saw A mountain there, its crown among the stars!?. It seemed to block their path. A nest upon its flank Was placed above the orbit of Kayvan'#, Who’s baleful grip could never reach it there. Its frame was all of teak and sandal wood, Its walls of aloes branches woven tight. Sam looked upon that massive granite slope, That awesome bird, that terrifying nest. No human hand had placed it on that rock; Nor was this palace built of earthly clay. He praised the Maker of the World and humbly Placed his brow and cheeks against the earth. For He had made this mountain and this bird,

125

And lifted up this granite to the stars. He knew His Lord was ever just and good, _ Of power immense and higher than the high. He sought a way to scale that peak, the path By which the demons and wild beasts must climb. Sam prayed aloud, “Oh, Higher than all earthly Place, than shining thought, than sun and moon. This child, if he is mine by pure descent, And not the evil seed of Ahriman,

Then help your slave so I may climb this slope. Accept me now as though I bore no sin.”

THE BIRTH OF ZAL

130

45

Simorgh addressed the youthful child of Sam, “You have endured the hardships of our nest,

Your father Sam, heroic paladin Of all the world, most honored by the great, Has come here now to seek his son. And you Will have a seat of honor by his side. It’s right that now I lift you from this nest And bring you swiftly to him safe and sound.” Consider well the answer Dastan made}, “Have you become so weary of your friend?

135

This nest of yours has been my splendid home. Your wings have been for me a crown of light.” Simorgh replied, ““Yet once you see the throne And court, the customs of the royal crown,

140

Perhaps this nest will have no further use For you. Come, make one trial of your fate. If you will take a feather from my wing, then you will always be within my light!°. I’ve nurtured you beneath my wing. With my Own young I’ve raised you up from infancy. If they in any way should treat you ill, Or speak against you whether right or wrong, Just cast a single feather in the fire. That instant you will see my radiance: Then I'll appear to you as swiftly as a thunder Cloud to bring you safely here.”

She soothed his heart then picked him up!”, And rising swiftly bore him through the clouds. Then swooping down she left him by his sire. The youthful Zal had grown as tall and strong

145

As any elephant. His face was fresh

h

As spring; his hair fell smoothly to his chest. His father wept to see him standing there. Sam swiftly bowed his head before Simorgh, And spoke aloud his joy and gratitude. He scrutinized his son from head to foot. Zal was a worthy heir to throne and crown. He had a lion’s chest and limbs, his face Outshone the sun—a hero’s heart, a hand To hold a sword. His brows were black, his eyes

46

JEROME

150

155

W. CLINTON

Like pitch, with coral lips and blood red cheeks'$. Sam blessed his spotless son, his heart Ascended to the highest Paradise. He clothed his body with a hero’s. robe And turned to leave the mountain side. As he Descended from the slope he ordered that A horse be brought and royal clothes as well. The army gathered where Sam stood, their hearts Exulting as they came. Then, beating drums, They led the elephants away, dust rising From their hoofs like hills of indigo. With roaring kettle drums and brazen horns, With golden trumpets and great Indian gongs, And horsemen shouting as they rode, they marched In perfect happiness along the road. They entered Zabol’s gates with cries of joy, Their number greater by one shining prince.

NOTES ! Abou’l Kasim Firdousi, Le Livre des rois, publié, traduit et commenté par M. Jules

Mohl (Paris, Imprimerie Nationale, 1838-78), I, pp. 216-41, text and translation en face;

The Shahnama of Firdausi, tr. Arthur George Warner and Edmond Warner, 9 vols., London, Kegan Paul, 1905-25, I, pp. 239-55. The Warner translation is based on the editions of Vullers (Leiden, 1877-84) and Macan (Calcutta, 1829). 2 Abu-’l-Qasem Ferdowsi, The Shahnameh, ed. Djalal Khaleqi-Motlagh, vol. 1, Persian Heritage Foundation, Persian Text Series, New Series, no. 1. Bibliotheca Persica, State University of New York Press, New York, 1987.

> In the tale of Faridün, Sam is mentioned along with Garshäsp, Qobad and Qaran as

one of the leaders of the army who assisted Faridün and as sharing command of the right flank of the army with Qobäd while Garshäsp led the left (lines 692, 792, 795). Moreover, in this narrative when he visits the court of Manuchehr he sits on one side of the Shah, and Qäran on the other (175).

* Of course Zahhäk has conspired with Eblis earlier in the murder of his father, Mardas (pp. 45-48, lines 75-120). But this story makes the son the villain, not the father, and turns upon the intervention of Eblis. ° Ferdowsi, Shahnama, ed. E.E. Bertel’s, Vol. 3, p. 10, lines 72-13, p. 30, lines 413-24. ° Ibid., vol. 6, pp. 294-99, lines 1235-1320. ” Ahriman, of course, is the god of evil in the Zoroastrian cosmology. 8 In their translations both Mohl and the Warners have Sam curse the land here, but

the text, which is the same in all three, says simply that he will not praise or glorify it (nax’an-am bar in bum o bar äfarin)

° The term borz is ambiguous. The Warners translate it as “fruitful promise,” implying that great deeds lie before him. I take the term as referring not to Zal’s own deeds, but to his fatherhood of Rostam, the greatest hero of the line.

THE BIRTH OF ZAL

47

10 Mobad, plural mobadän, means Zoroastrian priest. In the Shahnama they appear for the most part not in their rôle as clerics, but as wise counsellors to the shah. !! The words of the mobadan here anticipate a famous passage in the tale of Sohrab, which occurs toward the end of their first battle (ed. Bertel’s vol. 2, p. 224, lines 705-08): Oh, world! How strange your workings are! from you Comes both what’s broken and what’s whole. Of these two men, not one was stirred by love. Wisdom was far off, the face of love not seen. From fishes in the sea, to wild horses on The plain, all beasts can recognize their young. But man who’s blinded by his wretched pride, Alas, cannot distinguish son from foe.

(Jerome W. Clinton, The Tragedy of Sohrab and Rostäm, Seattle, 1987, lines 685-89). 12 This same term däya, which is usually glossed as ‘“‘wet nurse,” has a broader meaning in the Shahnadma. When Rostam asks Kay Kävus to give him responsibility for nurturing and educating the infant Siyavosh much — like the Simorgh that nurtures Zal —, Rostam says that he is the best possible däya for him (ed. E.E. Bertel’s, vol. 3, p. 10, lines

75-76). 13 Literally, “who’s head/peak was in thorayya.”’ Thorayya is translated as the Pleiades by Mohl and Warner. This gives the wrong association, however, since the Pleiades is a constellation of the classical zodiac where it is known principally as the seven daughters of Atlas who were placed in the heavens by Zeus. In the Iranian and Islamic context thorayyä designates a bright cluster of six stars in the constellation of the bull that is readily visible to the naked eye. A number of stories are associated with thorayya, among them that the rain which falls when it is in the ascendant will prove especially fertile. Its principal feature, however, is its brightness which makes it appear closer to the earth than other constellations. 14 Kayvan (Saturn) is the planet of ill-omen that rules the seventh heaven. 15 Dastän is another name for Zal. In some manuscripts Simorgh is credited with giving him this name (p. 169 n. 4). 16 The term translated here is, of course, far(r), which denotes

both radiance and

power. 17 The gender of Simorgh is not indicated in Persian, and this great bird displays both masculine and feminine traits at different times, but the events of this story leave little

doubt that here Simorgh is feminine. 18 This description makes clear once more

color of his hair.

that Zäl is perfectin all respects save the

HAMID

DABASHI

WHO'S WHO IN KLIDAR? SOCIETY AND SOLITUDE IN THE MAKING OF A CHARACTER For Professor Ehsan Yarshater and the dignity he has invested in our discipline

My first encounter with Klidar was in July 1979, when during a summer holiday I visited Iran, some five months after the Revolution. In one of my first regular, almost ritual, strolls in and about the bookstores in front of the Tehran University, I chanced upon the first, perhaps also the last, issue of Nama-ye Känun-e Nevisandegän-e Iran”. In it, under the section of “Stories,” I noticed a piece by Mahmud Dowlatabadi, whom I had known and read for a number of years. His Awsäna-ye Baba Sobhän?, which was later made into a movie, had

particularly caught my attention as to the magestically forceful diction that the Persian prose could be put. His Jd-ye khäli-ye Saluch* gave me a sort of sub-conscious premonition as to the potential conjuncture at which the courtly and confidant Khorasani diction and the tumultuous turmoils of the Persian peasantry could have a magnificent rendezvous*. The piece in the Nama-ye Känun-e Nevisandegän-e Irän° was called Klidar, which of course at the time I did not know how to pronounce. I do recall having asked a bookseller friend as to the proper pronounciation and the meaning of the title. The answer, which was later to become part of a more extensive urban legend® about the novel, was that the proper pronounciation is Kalidar, and it is the Khorasani way of saying Kal Heydar, meaning Mr. Heydar who has been to Karbala! Thus I started reading this short piece of Klidar without having the slightest idea as to what its title meant. I shall never forget the sheer ecstasy of the resonance of the first few sentences, from the first section,

of the second chapter, of the first volume, reprinted in this issue of Nama-ye Känun-e Nevisandegän-e Iran: “Tightly together, five horsemen galloped in the Marus plain: Khan ‘Amu, Sabr Khan, Madyar, ‘Ali Akbar Hajpasand, and Gol Mohammad. Five men from the Mishkali

WHO'S WHO IN KLIDAR

49

tribe. Headed for Klidar, they charged in this time of the day, wrapped in the sun and in the dust raised from the horses’ hoofs 7.” I also recall that I was awestruck when I caught myself completely drawn into the description of how horses and horsemen in this section competed with each other in a subtle, tacit, unspoken and yet compelling language. I could not get any sense of the section that I had read. It had something to do with five men raiding a village to snatch a girl for one of them. They ended up killing one man, getting one of themselves killed, and ... their mission unaccomplished. Before I left Iran towards the end of that July, I purchased Klidar, only one volume at that time. I read that volume, which I subsequently found out was actually two in one, not having the slightest idea that this was meant to be the ten-volume work as we know it now. How did I precisely feel about the conclusion of the volume at a time that I did not know it was going to continue, I cannot completely reconstruct. But I do remember, and rather vividly, that more than the actual story it was the diction of Dowlatabadi that had captivated me. A diction that during the past ten years has repeatedly moved me to tears®. Between 1979 and 1984, I gradually obtained the complete tenvolume set of Klidar. The complete publication of Klidar, I subsequently found out, had taken almost six years. In December 1978, the firt two volumes were published. The short section in Näma-ye Känun-e Nevisandegan-e Iran appeared in the spring of 1979. These I had obtained in the summer of 1979. In February of 1980 the third and fourth volume of the novel appeared. Two years later, in February of 1982, there appeared the fifth and the sixth volumes. And finally in the summer

of 1984,

the remaining

four volumes

were

published®.

The

book had been in preparation for almost fifteen years. Mahmud Dowlatabadi started writing Klidar in 1968, and put the final words down in 198310. After my initial encounter in Iran with Klidar, and between 1979 and 1987 I simply could not get beyond the first four volumes of the novel. Thus up until 1987 the last six volumes of the novel remained a veritable terra incognita for me. Beyond the usual perfunctory excuses of being too busy with other vanities of a junior academic, I think there have been other, perhaps more convoluted, psychological reasons behind this fact that I shall not discuss here. Let me just say that I have repeatedly found myself in the odd times of day and night to interrupt whatever I was doing to go to Klidar and read out-loud passages that I consider most glorious in the whole history of our literature. The

50

HAMID DABASHI

aesthetic dimensions of Klidar’s poetic prose is at once an exhilirating and an inhibiting force. It just grabs one by the throat and does not let the pace be steady!?. It was in the fall of 1987 that in the course of a casual conversation with Mohammad Reza Ghanoonparvar, we played with the idea of organizing a MESA pannel on Klidar!?. More than anything else the idea was appealing to me as an incentive to get actually beyond the first four volumes. As I began reading Klidar anew, and this time with the intention of actually finishing it, my first and foremost question was to understand what holds this ten volumes, some three thousand pages (2,836 plus additional pages for a glossary of unfamiliar words)!#, divided into thirty chapters, each chapter into one to four sections, together--other than threads and glues, that is. What began as a merely technical, structural question of the novel very soon assumed new and unanticipated dimensions. But initially I simply wanted to know what holds this long novel together. Needless to say, I am convinced that how a novel is held together is precisely the linking clue to what and how it signifies something beyond its narrative immediacy. Very soon I realized what is not holding the novel together. Klidar’s structural units, namely the sections, band as he calls them, are not clear-cut subdivisions with a single, coherent theme, incident, episode,

or event. Every section may contain one, two, or three events that may or may not be immediately interrelated. Of course in the general fabric of the novel there is no loose end, everything is ultimately and tightly connected together!*. But the units themselves, despite their meticulous symphonic composition, do not reveal a deliberate pattern of structural cohesion. I state this not as a criticism of any sort, because I do not believe that any work of art, true to its premise in the creative imagination of the artist, should follow any established set of extratextual regularities. But I simply eliminated that deliberate ordering of the constituent units as the structural blue-print of the novel. Thus the question remained

what holds the novel, and with it, the

thrust and shades of its meanings and significations. As I was progressing in my systematic reading of the novel and taking rather haphazard notes, the only thing that now began to connect the sections together was the narrative account of some sixty odd characters, connected through what Georg Simmel called a “‘web of affiliation!5.” There was a gallant and beautiful young woman called Maral who, as the novel

WHO'S WHO IN KLIDAR

51

begins, comes to Sabzevar and goes to see her father and her fiancé in the prison. Then she leaves Sabzevar to go and live with her paternal aunt and her family. Her aunt is Belqeys, who has three sons, Khan Mohammad, Gol Mohammad, and Beyk Mohammad, and a daughter, Shiru. Belqeys’s husband is Kalmishi. From then on, the story unfolds,

and characters and locations--in a triangle connected by Sabzevar, Nayshabur, and Torbat-e Heydariya--are interwoven. Simple as that. Thus far the only clue as to the structure of the novel I had, if we can call it a clue, was this familial and communal relationship among various characters. Maral was ‘Abdu’s daughter, ‘Abdus Belqeys’s brother, Belgeys Kalmishi’s wife, Kalmishi Gol Mohammad’s father, Gol Mohammad

Shiru’s brother, Shiru Mah-Darvish’s

Babgoli Bondar’s

servant,

Babqoli

Bondar

wife, Mah-Darvish

Alajagi’s

man

in Qal‘a

Chaman, etc. etc.

As page after page I inched my way towards an understanding of these characters, I realized that the nominal relationship among them was all good and well, but they were rather tangential as to who and what they really are. I kept looking at Maral, Gol Mohammad, Zivar, Sattar, Qadir, and Qorban Baluch, for example, and asked myself who are these people? And even more importantly what makes them into who and what they are. This dual question, 1.e., who are these characters beyond their nominal identity, and what makes them into who and

what they are, seemed to be infintely more important than their communal relationships. Now, at this stage, I admit, I had completely forgotten about my concern about the structural build-up of the novel and was thoroughly drawn into who and what its characters were. Then something quite unexpected happened that somehow connected these two loose ends. Towards the begining of the sixth volume, and as my initial concern for the structure of the novel was temporarily but effectively eclipsed by my growing concern with its characters, I do not know why I felt I ought to re-read Irving Howe’s Politics and the Novel'$, which I had read for the first time some ten years earlier in the February of 1979. The hidden relationship between my concern about the characters of Klidar, who and what they are, and more crucially what forces were operative in the making of their identity, on the one hand, and the urge to go back and read Irving Howe’s brilliant collection of essays, on the other, I am convinced is an important feature of my encounter with the

52

HAMID DABASHI

whole spirit of the novel. But whatever the hidden causes, I was moved

to read Howe’s book one more time. Early in Howe’s chapter on Malraux, Silone, and Koestler, I came upon the following passage: “Where Dostoevsky looked upon radicalism as a marginal conspiracy, a disease that had infected the intelligentsia and the /umpenproletariat, Malraux and Silone, in their major novels, recognize it as the occasion for the first independent entry of the masses into history. For Dostoevsky and Conrad the very possiblity of revolution meant a catastrophic break-down of order, a lapse into moral barbarism; for Malraux and Silone the breakdown of society is a long-accomplished and inevitable fact, and what matters now is the energy, the heroism, the pathos of the effort to achieve socialism. The view of ‘human nature’ shared by Dostoevsky ... and Conrad is one of radical pessimism: man must be strapped by ordained moral law so that the chaos within him will not break loose. Malraux’s view is existentialist:

man

is whatever

he makes

himself, either in victory or

defeat, and only through a chosen act can he fullfill the unmeasured possibilities of his being. For Malraux the appearance of millions of speechless men, climbing up from the silence of centuries is the overwhelming fact of our political life!7. This passage, perhaps inadvertantly, led me to read Dostoevski, Conrad, Malraux, and Silone in a dual dichotomy that I had of course sensed

but

not

articulated

before.

The

way

I saw

it now,

whereas

Dostoevski and Conrad considered the individual in the solitude of his moral

choices,

Malraux

and Silone examined

the social actor in the

society of his political actions. Between individuals and social actors, being in solitude or scciety, oscillating between moral choices and political actions, there seems to be a continuous spectrum upon which characters are built and, dare I say, cultures are mandated.

What made this dual typology particularly eminent was a book I read this year by Anthony Storr, an Oxford psychiatrist, on Solitude'®. The sub-title of Storr’s book, ““A Return to the Self,” began to clarify

further the dichotomy Howe had introduced to my mind. Storr’s argument in Solitude was that the post-Freudian psychiatry had put too much emphasis on the relationship among individuals as a sign of their mental state. Storr then proceeds to argue that equally, if not more so, healthy psychological states can be attained by individuals who choose to lead a solitary life. He then goes through a biographical exposition of a number of intellectual giants, such as Wittgenstein and Kant, who preferred a solitary as opposed to a social life.

WHO'S WHO

IN KLIDAR

53

Although Storr’s argument in itself was tangentially interesting to me for other reasons, perhaps its unanticipated consequence was to distinguish further the dichotomous character-types Howe’s passage had suggested. The question now was how are characters formed on a scale that streches from solitary individuals to social actors. The formation of such characters, of course, immediately related to the question of who and what they are, which is their self-perception of their own identity. In the privacy of their solitude and in the publicity of their social life, individuals, thus would the argument hold, negotiate an optimum level of personal and public images which collectively constitute what we would ordinarily call their character. Now, to be sure, both these personal and public images, and the character-type constructed through them are cultural artifacts. That is to say, we cannot imagine culturally unimaginable images or think culturally unthinkable thoughts as the basis of our character. But so far as we are given spaces that our culture designates private or, alternatively, public, then we reach, through a process we better leave unexamined now, a definition of our character most congenial to our disposition. Here is where I began to develope and systematize my ideas about the characters

in Klidar,

with

immediate

connection

to

the

initial

question of the structure of the novel. What held the novel together, now it seemed to me, was the interaction among a number of characters

who were not merely in nominal, familial and communal relationship with each other, but who became what they were by virtue of their physical, emotional, and moral proximity to one another. It is precisely in this physical, emotional and moral proximity to one another that various characters in Klidar are ultimately defined. And it is through a constellation of a set of such proximities that the novel is held together. Let me give a number of examples as to how characters are made into what they are by virtue of physical, emotional, and moral proximity to each other. The first and foremost example that comes to mind is that of Khan

Mohammad,

Gol Mohammad,

and Beyk Mohammad,

the three sons of Kalmishi and Belgeys. We have the least understanding of these three characters when they are separate from each other, i.e., when Khan Mohammad is in prison for some pathetic robbery, Gol Mohammad is drawn into compelling trivialities of making a meager living, and Beyk Mohammad is off to servile and menial odd jobs for Arbäb Talkhäbädi. It is precisely when these three brothers are brought together in the moment of their revolt that we begin to see the particularity of their individual characters by virtue of

54

HAMID DABASHI

their relationship to each other. Drawn together, compared to Gol Mohammad, Beyk Mohammad has a gentle, soft-hearted, and tender character; while, again compared

to Gol Mohammad,

Khan

Moham-

mad has a coarse, hard-headed, and suspicious nature. At the center of the two, both by age and by temperament, Gol Mohammad takes his tenderness from his younger and more innocent brother, Beyk Mohammad and his practical acumen from his older and more experienced brother, Khan Mohammad. But the point is that it is precisely at the moment of their physical, emotional, and ethical proximity to each other that these features of their chracters become more vividly visible. Whenever Gol Mohammad is in a room, Beyk Mohammad is bound to be on its roof, wholeheartedly protecting his brother. But when it comes to the crucial strategic question of what exactly the military establishment in Mashhad has plotted for them, it is Khan Mohammad

who is dispatched to find out. Let’s take another

set of characters,

Gol

Mohamamd,

Maral,

and

Delävar. When Maral is in the proximity of Delävar, her fiancé, she of course has every sign and signature of being a valiant woman, but this is realized to no measurable actuality. It is when she is brought to the proximity of Gol Mohammad that the full measure and magnitude of her love and devotion are articulated. From his horse to his son to his rifle --there are no other things more important to Gol Mohammad-the hero of Klidar recieves all symbols of his heroism from Maral. It is the proximity to Gol Mohammad that brings out in Maral the best that she can be. There is, a tension, a cruel choice, in the best that Maral

can be in proximity to Gol Mohammad.

Whereas the best virtues of

love, devotion, and care are articulated in Maral when next to Gol Mohammad, her other virtues, i.e., gallantry, heroism, struggle, which

Maral is equally prepared for, are suppressed. Except for one glorious moment of revolt that Maral wraps her son on her back, picks up a rifle, and mounts Qara’at for an expedition, she is never given the chance of realizing the Joan of Arc that is in her. But here we reach the cultural limitations, operative for Joan of Arc too, that transcend both

Gol Mohammad and Maral, which neither they nor Dowlatabadi can transgress with immunity. Given their cultural inhibitions, Gol Mohammad and Maral induce in each other the best that they can be, or the optimum of their ideal identity. For all intents and purposes, Delavar is as valiant and courageous as Gol Mohammad. What he lacks is that chemistry and those circum-

WHO'S WHO IN KLIDAR

38

stances of affinity that draw Gol Mohammad and Maral together. If we compare two prominant instances of proximity between Gol Mohammad and Delävar, the gradual formation of their identity becomes clear: The first instance is in the prison when they wrestle on equal terms; and the second is in Gol Mohammad’s encampment, after his rebellion, when Delävar addresses Gol Mohammad

with the servile

tone of: “Early in the morning I have to be in Qal’a Chaman, sir! ... With your permission, I take my leave now !?!”” From equal standing to visible and audible signs of command and obedience, Gol Mohammad and Delävar define each other by becoming what the other is not. Delävar’s later half-hearted participation in an assassination plot against Gol Mohammad does not in any significant way alter these separate identities. Delävar’s sincere confession that he could have killed Beyk Mohammad but did not and that he threw his gun for Qorbän Baluch and Shiru voluntarily, as well as Gol Mohammad’s magnanimous forgiveness, further consolidate the hierarchial relationship already established between the two. The above two examples, among many others, indicate that as the novel progresses and as Gol Mohammad finds his revolutionary character, he assumes a central and determinant role in the formation and

definition of other characters. It is in relation to him that others assume their identity. It seems that the full measure of Sattär’s revolutionary committment,

for example,

or the extent

of Khan ‘Amu’s

emotional

attachments to his nephews, as well as the depth of Bäbgoli Bondär’s treachery or the height of Alajaqi’s pernicious schemes, do not become clear until they enter their particular proximity with Gol Mohammad. In turn, Gol Mohammad himself becomes increasingly trapped in the public perception that begins to be wrapped around him. From Gol Mohammad Kalmishi to Gol Mohammad Sardär, the central figure of Klidar is gradually metamorphosed into a mythological figure of authority around whose public perception individuals begin to find and define their own identity. Ù Here we of course reach the domain of heroes and heroism and the function they perform in their communal identity. As the collective mythology around Gol Mohammad begins to narrate itself, he becomes the focus of suppressed and denied public virtues which are otherwise scattered and diffused in peoples’ imagination. Once externalized and objectified in a visible and tangible figure, these collective perceptions become a reality sui generis that can act as catalyst in activating in others what would otherwise remain mute and tacit.

56

HAMID DABASHI

To test this hypothesis, i.e., to see how central the public construction of Gol Mohammad’s mythological identity is in the dialectical making of characteres and their identities, we have to look for figures who are not in any recognizable manner in the vicinity of the hero. For this purpose we need not look too hard. ‘Abbasjan and Qadir, the two alienated and estranged sons of Karbala’i Khodädäd, are the chief figures who immediately suggest themselves. These two brothers, each in his own peculiar way, represent not only figures who lack the slightest connection to Gol Mohammad and his mythological identity, but also lack any other attachment to anything. ‘Abbasjan and Qadir are not only estranged from Gol Mohammad, but from any other figure or format around them that could give their miserable existance a meaning. To be sure, theirs is not solitude of independant characters, but loneliness of wretched miseries. There are two moments in the lives of ‘Abbasjan and Qadir in which they inch towards an understanding and confidence of who they are. These two moments have nothing to do with Gol Mohammad. But with what these moments have something to do is precisely the point where the centrality of Gol Mohammad’s public perception becomes evident. Qadir’s moment of a working definition of his identity comes about only after he has set the whole crop on fire, a devastating and malicious transgression in the unwritten law of peasantry. ‘Abbasjan’s momentary instance of self-perception, too, comes about in the tumultuous urges of patricide that almost annihilate him. Thus in the absence of an operative proximity to Gol Mohammad,

it is death and destruction

that define the characters of

‘Abbasjan and Qadir. A comparison of ‘Abbasjan and Qadir on the one hand, and Sattar and Nada ‘Ali on the other, with Gol Mohammad as the mythological measure of truth at the center, takes us one step further in our understanding of the functions of a hero in whose public image a community of individuals define themselves. Whereas Sattar in an active and Nada Ali in a passive manner are drawn into Gol Mohammad’s orbit of character-building, and thus participate, in two different ways, in the public myth, ‘Abbasjan and Qadir consciously and with

cynical sobriety stay away from any emotional, sentimental, and mythological notions about Gol Mohammad. ‘Abbasjan, in particular, has moments of dreadful truth about the true nature of life as ultimately and indubitably founded on lie and on brute power. “I am convinced,” he says in a rare moment of truth in his wretched life, “that people all vie with each other in a huge ship of lie, ... wandering

WHO'S WHO IN KLIDAR

37

around a boundless and bottomless sea 20.” ‘Abbasjan’s corollary truth is that “‘my life, my living, and the world in which I live, have taught me that there is but one truth, just one. Do you want to know what that is [Nada Ali]?! ... Power, power, just power ... That which I lack: „power In their communal identity, individuals in the physical, emotional, and moral vicinity of Gol Mohammad participate in a public myth. In their private confusions, individuals outside Gol Mohammad’s orbit of collective imagination, reach dreadful truths. And there is the rub. The

collective myth around Gol Mohammad enobles whoever it comes into contact with; the private truth of ‘Abbasjan and Qadir debases whoever perceives it. Between collective myths that ennoble and private truths that debase, there lies a vast spectrum upon which a tightly held dialectic of immediacy, the epic of Klidar, is a magnificent edifice. How that dialectic of collective myths that ennoble and private truths that debase is constructed, or what the organic interplay between the private and public images of characters in Klidar is, is itself a fascinating story which I should probably tell some other time.

NOTES ! Näma-ye Känun-e Nevisandegan-e Iran 1, Spring 1358/1979. 2 There is not even a preliminary account of Mahmud Dowlatabadi’s literary achievements in Persian, English, or any other language. Before the publication of Klidar, Dowlatabadi was an established name in the annals of modern Persian literature. Other than Klidar, he has published two collection of short stories, six novels, a play, a travelogue, and two collections of articles on literature. He has also been extensively interviewed by Amir Hoseyn Cheheltan and Fereydun Faryad for a volume, Mä ham mardomi hastim (We are a people, too). Excerpts from this interview are already published in various journals; see, e.g., Mahmud Dowlatabadi, “Man ba Klidar yak bär-e digar motavalled shodam” (“I was born again with Klidar’’), Daftarhä-ye Honar va Adabiyat 5/

18, winter 13661987, pp. 20-24, 32. 3 For a review of Jä-ye khäli-ye Saluch see A. Reza Navvabpour’s article in /ranian Studies 15/1-4, 1982, pp. 244-50. His otherwise careful reading of the novel is a bit too heavy on social and economic reductionisms of the literary discourse. + Dowlatabadi himslef gives a full account of the development of his poetic prose in the interview with Cheheltan and Faryad; see “I was born again with Klidar,” op.cit., pa23: "NDS 6 It is futile to speculate what directions these urban legends about the author of the most recent example in the Iranian epic tradition would assume. But judging by legends about Ferdowsi and Sultan Mahmud, stories about Dowlatabadi and his Klidar are bound to take political and financial postures. Karim Emami has already refered to some of these stories in terms of, for example, the number of volumes published or the amount

58

HAMID DABASHI

of royalty the author has received. See Emami’s “A New Persian Novel: Mahmud Dowlatäbädi’s Klidar’’, unpublished paper delivered at the Middle East Institute, Saint Anthony’s College, Oxford University on March 17, 1987. 7 p.53; also in the original, Mahmud Dowlatabadi, Klidar, Tehran, 1357/1978, I,

pe lS3:

>,

8 Among those who have reviewed Klidar, Ehsan Yarshater and Heshmat Moayyad, two eminent authorities on classical Persian prose, have admired Dowlatäbädi’s superb diction. Heshmat Moayyad goes so far as comparing the superlative prose of Dowlatäbadi to classical canons of the language. See Ehsan Yarshater’s “Bozorgtarin roman-e zabän-e färsi” (The greatest Persian novel), /ran Nameh 5/1, Autumn 1986, pp. 105-09, and Heshmat Moayyad’s “Ta’ammol-i dar Klidar” (A brief consideration of Klidar, Iran Nameh 7/1, Autumn 1988, pp. 112-25. Few people, however, have taken issue with the propriety of Dowlatäbädi’s diction. Chief among them is Hushang Golshiri, the noted Iranian novelist-cum-critic, who in his premature review of the novel, published when only four volumes of Klidar were available, has argued against the use of the naggaäli technique in a modern novel. Other than his personal preference, however, Golshiri fails to convince his readers as to why the use of naggali technique, merely because its use has not been koshered by a bona fide Western novelist, is forbidden to Dowlatabadi. That, however, is even if we agree that Dowlatabadi does indeed use the naggali technique. This is a premature assumption anyway because the whole question of the narrative voice in Klidar is a rather complicated matter, which has not been properly addressed yet. For Golshiri’s criticism see his ‘“Häshiya-i bar Klidar” (A commentary on Klidar), Nagd-e agah, Tehran, 1361/1982, pp. 38-62. ° These dates are taken from the first edition of the K/idar volumes. 10 These two dates are provided by Dowlatabadi himself in the final page of Klidar X,

p. 2836. 11 Although, again, a bit heavy on economic reductionism of Dowlatabadi’s writings, A. Reza Navvabpour’s review of Klidar at least tries, however briefly, to alleviate Golshiri’s criticism of the naggali narrative, which Navvabpour accepts without any examination, quite on face value, and just because Golshiri says so. Navvabpour rightly argues,

however

convoluted

in social

and

economic

terms

(the

usual

line

on

the

“examination of a traditional society under the impact of modern ideas”), that an author can successfully try “to bind together these countermodernist realities and a modernist literary expression and create coherency.’ The debate over this issue should not be given that much currency, anyway. Because, as I said earlier, Golshiri’s application of the naggäli method to the prose and the narrative voice of Klidar is essentially misplaced. The two related issues of “diction” and the “narrative voice” in Klidar are to be dealt with much more seriously than Golshiri’s off-the-cuff method would warrant. 12 We subsequently arranged a panel on Klidar in the Twenty-second Annual Meeting of the Middle Eastern Studies Association of North America, 1988, held in Beverly Hills, California.

Professor

Ehsan Yarshater chaired the session; Hasan Javadi discussed

the

historical background of the major events in Klidar; M.R. Ghanoonparvar addressed the question of the narrative prose and aspects of its comparisons to Shahnäma; Hura Yavari talked about typification of characters in the novel; and I presented the first draft of this paper. '3 The pagination of the first four volumes were thoroughly changed in the second edition of the novel. In the second edition, the first four volumes, in conjunction with the

other six volumes, were re-typeset. There seems to have been a change of publisher from the first to the second edition of the first four volumes. The first two volumes were

initially published by Tirang Publishers in December 1978; volumes three and four were first published by ‘Alam Publishers in February 1981. Then the second edition of the four volumes in April of 1982, in conjunction with the fifth and the sixth volumes in February of 1983, and the seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth volumes in the summer of 1984, were

WHO'S WHO IN KLIDAR

59

thoroughly re-typeset and published by Nashr-e Parsi. In the opening page of the first volume in the first edition the following footnote appears: “In the years that [this] story

happened (1325/1946), the people of our city [Sabzevar] called the ‘police station’ (shahrbäni), nazmiya.” But in the second edition, Dowlatabadi decides to dispense with this explanatory note. The years in which the story unfolds, from 1946 to early 1949, however, are quite evident from a number of places in the novel. The penultimate event of the novel, for example, leading to its tragic finale, is the mob attack against suspected Tudeh members following the assasination attempt against the Iranian monarch in Bahman 1327 (February 1949). The first two volumes in the first edition lacked any glossary of unfamiliar words. But the first edition of volumes three and four, as well as all volumes in the second edition, contained unnumbered pages at the end of each volume explaining the unfamiliar words from the local dialect. 14 Partow Nuri-Ala in “Safar-i be Klidar” (“A journey into Klidar’’), Tehran,

1364/

1985, pp. 29-39, has suggested certain inconsistancies in the plot of the novel, none of which are tenable. Incidently, the charts of characters presented in Nuri-Ala’s essay are not to be totally trusted. ‘Abdus, for example, is Delävar’s would-be father-in-law, not his fiancée! Or by the end of the novel, Khadij is beyond Aslan’s fiancée. She is his wife. Long and memorable sections of the novel are devoted to their marriage ceremony. 15 Georg Simmel, Conflict and the Web of Group-Affiliations, New York, 1955, pp. 125-95. 16 Irving Howe, Politics and the Novel, New York, 1957.

17 Ibid, p: 205: 18 Anthony Storr, Solitude: A Return to the Self, New York, 1988.

19 Klidar VIII, p. 2103. ZH IX p42499. 21 Jbid., p. 2450.

MUHAMMAD DANDAMAYEV THE OLD IRANIAN ARAZAPANATA The title LÜ arazapanatasu

occurs

twice in the document

TCL

13,

no. 218! (the second time it is written omitting LU, the determinative for designating professions). In this form -$u is a pronominal suffix meaning “his”. The text contains names and patronymics of various persons and indicates where each of them lived. The document is not dated and, in all probability, was drafted in the city of Kish, which is mentioned in it. Two persons (Itti-Nabü-balätu and Bel-iddina) with typical Babylonian names and patronymics who bore the title under consideration are referred to in the tablet, along with some other men,

including a “scribe of the harbour”’. One of these arazapanata resided in the house of Bél-nasir, who was a scribe-interpreter (sepiru). None of these arazapanata is referred to in any other texts, and therefore prosopography does not help to elucidate their title. One of the arazapanata was subordinate to a certain Bullutu and the other to Nabü-bullitsu who bore the title pagdu (‘‘officer”). Referring to M. Mayrhofer?, the Assyrian Dictionary offers for this word the etymology from the Old Persian *raza-päna, “‘vineyardkeeper’>. The same etymology has been accepted also by Hinz*. However, as Zadok has already noted, such an etymology “leaves the initial a- and th efinal -ta-su ... unaccounted for ... It is difficult to understand the Neo/Late Babylonian form as Akkad. pl., viz. ‘his vineyard-keepers’ as each time the term in question refers to one individual only”’>. Besides, wine was produced in Babylonia in a rather restricted quantity and this fact is perhaps even more important. Therefore it is hardly likely that two Babylonians would have been: referred to in a single document from Kish each of whom had his own vineyard-keeper. It seems to me that the term under consideration consists of two Old Iranian words, namely haraz-, “to send®” and pantay-, ‘‘road”7. Thus, could mean “sent to road”, i.e., “messenger”. Such a

arazapanata

meaning fits in the context since one of the arazapanata was a subordinate to an official. Consequently, arazapanata is an equivalent of the Akkadian

alläku, “agent”,

Sipri, messenger”,

LE]

oe

“agent”.

“courier”

(from aläku, “to go”), or mar

OLD IRANIAN

ARAZAPANATA

61

As said above, the document TCL 13, no. 218 is not dated. However, on prosopographic grounds it can be dated to the beginning of the Achaemenid period®.

NOTES 1 G. Contenau,

Contrats néo-babyloniens. II: Achéménides et Séleucides (Musée du

Louvre, Textes cunéiformes, vol. 13, Paris, 1929), no. 218, line 4: LÜ a-ra-za-pa-na-ta-Su;

line 22: a-ra-za-pa-na-ta-[Su]. 2 See Die Sprache 8 (1962), p. 121, note 1. 3 See The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. A/ II (Chicago, 1968), p. 239. * See W. Hinz, Altiranisches Sprachgut der Nebenüberlieferungen (Wiesbaden, 1975), p. 204. Cf. W. von Soden, Akkadisches Handwörterbuch (Wiesbaden, 1959-1981), p. 66. 5 See R. Zadok, p. 549, note 25.

“Babylonian

Notes”,

Bibliotheca

Orientalis XXXVII,

5/6 (1981),

6 See Chr. Bartholomae, Altiranisches Wörterbuch, Strassburg, 1904, col. 1792. 7 Ibid., col. 847. Thanks

are due to V. Livshits, with whom

etymology, though responsibility for possible errors is mine. 8 See Zadok, “Babylonian Notes”, p. 549, note 25.

I have discussed

this

GERHARD DOERFER TATI LEHNWÖRTER

IM CHALADSCH

Bekanntlich sind Nord-Tati, gesprochen in der Aserbeidschanischen SSR, das eine südwestiranische Sprache ist, und Süd-Tati (ST), gespro-

chen u.a. in Nordwestpersien, das eine nordwestiranische (“medische’’) Sprache ist, streng zu scheiden. Die iranischen Dialekte um Chaladschistan (CT), dargestellt von Moqaddam und Kia, stehen gewiß jener ST Dialektgruppe, die Yar-Shater (Grammar) so hervorragend untersucht hat, sehr nahe. Zum medischen Zweig gehören auch die iranischen Lehnwörter in mongolischen Texten des 14. Jh., die ich 1974 erforscht habe; ich bin heute geneigt, sie eher als Tati (Dialekt von Soltaniyya) denn als kurdisch anzusehen und möchte sie als ‘““mongolmedisch” (MM) bezeichnen. Die CT Dialekte sind u.a. durch folgende Charakteristika ausgezeichnet:

(1)

z- statt d-, z.B. in ‘Schwager’ (p. dämäd) in A&tian (A8.), Kahak

(Kah.) zama, Amora (Am.) zomä, an allen drei Orten zän- ‘wissen’ (vgl. MM nasan ‘Dummkopf = na-zän, p. nädän). Vgl. Shahrud 57 zamaä, zän-, Kajal 278 zan-, Ramand

244 zomä, Tarom

457 zamäa, Grammar

223 Tak., 83 Esh. zun-, 190 Ebr. zen-, 85 Esf: zan-, 92 Esh., 83 Sag. zumä, 48 Ebr. zemä, 76 Cha. zömä, 95 Xoz. zomä.

(2) -y- oder Null statt -d-, z.B. in ‘Mandel’ (p. bädäm), ‘Haus’ (p. kada): AS. vama, Kah. veyma, Am. vamma; A8., Am. keya, Kah. keye (vgl. MM kayxuva ‘Schulze’= p. kadxodä). Vgl. Kajal 277 vayam, Grammar 115 Dan. veyma; 49 Sag cia, 61 Tak., 96 Esh. kia.

(3)

v- statt b-, z.B. in ‘Wind’ (p. bäd): AS. vad, Am. vat (aber Kahak

bäd), s. auch (2) ‘Mandel’. Auch v- statt g- in ‘Wolf (p. gorg): AS. verg, Am. vorg (Kah. gorg). Vgl. Shährud 56, Grammar 84 Esf., 55 Cha., ferner Kajal 277 varg. (4) Iran. dv- erscheint als b-, z.b. in ‘Tür’ (p. dar): alle Dialekte bar. Ebenso Shährud 56, Alvir/Vidar 184, Grammar 66 Tak., 82 Ebr. (5) Dagegen erscheint z-, nicht Z-, in ‘Frau’ (wie in p. zan, entgegen

kurd. Zin, s. Oranskij 345): AS. zana, Kah. zane, Am. zena. Formen mit z- auch in Shährud

54, Alvir/Vidar 179, Grammar 80 Esh., 94 Ebr., 95 Sag., 95 Esf., 58 Cha., 92 Xia., 95 Xoz., 95 Dan.; lediglich in Kajal z(278 Zana) ~ z- (277),

TATI IN CHALADSCH

63

(6) Es erscheint das feminine -a, s. (2) väma, (5). Vgl. dazu Grammar 68-73.

(7)

-xt- (und -ft-) > -t-, z.B. in ‘Tochter’ (p. doxtar): As., Kah. dita,

Am. ditaka. Ähnlich Shährud

Ramand

244, Alvir/Vidar

57 dat, Tarom 455 deta, dagegen teta in 178, Grammar 94 Ebr., 95 Sag., 92 Xia., 95

Dan, vgl. auch 73 für viele Dialekte. (8) © ist mit ü, € mit 1 zusammengefallen (wie im Neup.), z.B. in allen Dialekten gus ‘Ohr’ (= p., aber ta. go$), mix ‘Nagel’ (= p., aber ta. mex). Am. verschiebt jedoch meist altes ü, zuweilen auch altes 6, zu ü

(xün ‘Blut’, müs ‘Maus’, auch mi ‘Haar’ = p. xün, müs, mii, ta. xin, mus, moy). Die CT und die persischen Lehnworter in der Türksprache Chaladsch sind oft schwer zu scheiden. Das liegt zum Teil daran, daB die

Entwicklung vom Arischen her dieselben Resultate ergeben hat; darüber hinaus hat ja das Persische alle in Persien gesprochenen Sprachen und Dialekte stark beeinflufit. Immerhin wird sich im folgenden zeigen, daß das Chaladsch auch eine Reihe von iranischen Lehnwörtern enthält, die nur CT sein kônnen. (Zur geographischen Lage der Orte vgl. Lexik 427f. und Karten. Mit*sind “Idealformen” vermerkt = die idealen Durchschnittsnormen der verschiedenen Varianten.) A.

CT Lehnworter mit € ~ 1 bzw. 1 Für ‘Kessel’ bzw. ‘irdener Topf (p. dig, dizi, ta. dég) finden wir in Lexik 331/332: *deyä, nämlich dayd, deyd, degä in 3 Westorten, *deyäk (deyäk, däyyäk, deyäc, deyyäk) im Norden, ferner *diyd (diya, diya, diya, diya) überall außer im Norden. Hierbei dürfte *dryä eine moderne Entlehnung sein (vgl. Am. diga), die Formen mit *e sind älter, der Typ

*deyäk dürfte auf einen Für ‘Tasche’ (p. jib, 398) neben den Typen *jek oder gar jök, wohl bergang -b- > -v-) als Form (auch im Norden zurückgehen.

CT Dialekt im Norden zurückgehen. ta. jayb), ein arab. Lehnwort, finden wir (Nr. *jeb, *jib (beide im Norden) ganz überwiegend entstanden über *jeväk (mit typisch CT LautüDiminutiv von *jeb; dies ist die verbreitetste belegt); sie dürfte auf einen alten CT Dialekt

‘Scharf gewürzt’ (p. tiz, ta. téz), Nr. 527, erscheint in Xarrab als fi,

vgl. Am., Sag, Ebr. ti. B.

CT Lehnwörter mit ö ~ ü bzw. 0 bzw. u “Wandnische”, Nr. 308, p. dulab, ta. döläb, erscheint als *deylav (de-läv, dilöp, im Osten), döläv (dölaf, dölav und ähnlich, weitverbreitet;

64

GERHARD

nur

im Norden

duöläb, das wegen

DOERFER

-b- aus dem

Persischen

stammen

kann), dindd in einem ganz westlichen Ort, *dölafca und ähnlich im Westen und in Xarräb, *dölava nur in Xarräb. Gerade die letzte Form,

mit -a, wirkt typisch CT. à ‘Bach’, Nr. 228 (p. Jüy, ta. joy) erscheint ganz überwiegend als a) *jöy, b) nur in einem Zentralort als juy, c) ja nur in 2 Orten im Westen, d) daneben auch *jöp in 3 ziemlich östlichen Orten. Zu a)/b) vgl. Xünsär jay (wohl, was -y betrifft, die Vorform auch von CT); c) ist die

moderne Standardform u.a. von Xünsär, AS., woneben Am. jüa, Esh., Sag, Ebr. jüa; d) wohl < *jö-ab habe ich in CT, ST nicht gefunden, es erscheint aber im Tü. Chorasans (das vielfach ähnliche Lehnwörter wie das Chaladsch aufweist). Sub 253 ‘Berg’ p. küh) erscheint auch (in einem Nordort) kulü--wozu

vel. AS. kali = p. kulüx, ta. kulöx. ‘Backofen’,

Nr.

336, p. tanur, ta. tanör, erscheint

Orten in der p. Form (vielleicht < tundur,

*tanur; daneben

s. unten),

nur

in 3 verstreuten

tunur/tunur als Standardform

im Norden

und

in Sana

fehlend;

*tdndir/*tdndur sind typisch für den Norden und das Zentrum (fehlen

im Westen); in Sana gilt tundur. Vgl. AS. tendür, Xünsär tendir, p. tandür u.a. Die Formen mit -u- der 2. Silbe dürften CT sein. ‘Birne’, Nr. 192, p. amrüd, ta. amröd, erscheint weitverbreitet *umrot/*umrod, gewiß eine CT Form, vgl. A’. emrüd. Daneben scheint *ämröt im Norden, *ämrüt vor allem im Zentrum.

als er-

Die Formen

mit ä- können (müssen aber nicht) aus dem Persischen stammen. Daneben finden sich zahlreiche Wörter, die sowohl CT wie auch Persisch sein können, so unter vielen anderen Nr. 112 ‘Kalb’ (p. gusala, ta. gosäla) nur in 4 verstreuten Orten als güsäalä, sonst überall *gosala. Hierbei stammt wohl güsälä eher aus dem Persischen und ist eine moderne Entlehnung, *gösäla eher aus CT und ist eine alte Entlehnung. Mehrfach ist in Xaltabad (am Westrande Chaladschistans) altes € bewahrt, das sonst überall als modernes ı auftaucht, z.B. in Nr. 252 ‘Kiesel’ reg (p. rig, ta. reg), 466 ‘Fundament’ bex (p. bix, ta. bex). Zu bemerken ist, daß (s. Lexik 424f.) in iranischen Dialekten oft

ö>ü>ü>1 geworden ist. In AS., Kah. gilt ü, jedoch in Am. besonders für altes *ü oft ü (vgl. u.a. xün ‘Blut’, müs ‘Maus’, aber auch mii ‘Haar’, ila ‘Röhre’). Im Süden Irans überwiegt ü, das oft in i übergeht (z.B. in Gaz). Zu beachten ist, daß es auch im Chaladsch (unter iranischem Einfluß) einen Lautübergang ü > i gibt, der sich im Norden schwächer, im Süden stärker ausgewirkt hat (s. Lexik 370). Die ST Dialekte (s. Grammar, z.B. pp. 36, 40, 44, 46, 47) bewahren i.a. u,

TATI IN CHALADSCH

65

jedoch hat Shährud 55, Kajal 277 einen nach ü tendierenden Laut. Es gibt aber auch südliche Orte mit bewahrtem u (z.B. Meime). Der Wechsel ü ~ ü spiegelt sich im Chaladsch wieder. Vgl.: ‘Strumpf, Nr. 393 (p. jüräb, ta. joräb) als *jüräb im Westen und im Zentrum (sowie in Säqälü), *joräb als Standardform, schließlich jiräb in Salaféegan (ziemlich östlich). Vgl. dazu A8., Kah. jarab (Am. gürowa). ‘Art und Weise’ (p. jür, ta. jor) erscheint als jar in WCh. Xarrab, auch in der Aequativform jüriya in Sara-Band, Sefidäla, Ahmadäbäd,

jür in Müÿakeya, jürä in Sefidala und als jir in Cähak, Bäy-e Yak, Hezärabad. ‘Röhre’ (p. lüla, ta. lola), Nr. 319, erscheint i.a. als */xlä (Standardform), jedoch als */6/ä in 2 ziemlich zentralen Orten, als *lülä (lulä ist Druckfehler) in Talxäb, als /ild in Cähak (Beide im Norden). Vgl. Aë.,

Kah. lala, Am. lila. ‘Kurbis’

(p., ta. kadü), Nr. 211, erscheint als kudi weit verbreitet, ~ kidü (ebenfalls weit verbreitet), als kädi im Osten,

daneben als kudü

als kddu weit verbreitet. Alle diese Formen lassen sich in iranischen und oghus-turkischen Dialekten nachweisen, typisch aber ist die bunte Verteilung. Man hat den Eindruck, daß hier sozusagen “ganz Iran” auf die chaladsch Dialekte eingewirkt hat. ‘Baumwolle’ (p. lüka, ta. lökka), Nr. 402, erscheint i.a. als *lükä (mit internem chaladsch Lautübergang ü > i auch /ikä usw.); daneben lö-kä

in VaSqan (Nordort). Vgl. Aë., Am. lükka, Kah. lükke. Schließlich gibt es in vielen iranischen Dialekten den typischen Übergang altiran. u (p. o) > e, 1, s. Lexik 424 f. Im ST findet sich dafür oft 6, s. Grammar 69, wonach p. donb ‘Schwanz’ in den Dialekten döm(b) und ähnlich entspricht, auch z.B. p. holü ‘Pfirsisch’ mehrfach als höllu und ähnlich erscheint. Auch hier hat der persische Einfluß oft Formen mit o statt ö eingeführt (daher z.B. Xia. zwar dömb, aber holua). Vgl. noch Grammar 36, 40, 44, 46. Für Am. ist (soweit nicht persischer Einfluß vorliegt) ö charakteristisch, für A8., Kah. jedoch o. Jedoch findet sich i in jenen iranischen Orten, die Chaladschistan direkt im Süden

benachbart

sind

(Mahallat,

Xunsar;

schon

in Gaz

aber

u).

Untersuchen wir einige dieser Wörter hier für das Chaladsch. Es erhellt, daß solche Termini aus einer Stufe ü (bzw. i) des CT stammen müssen. ‘Packsattel’ (p. jol, ta. jul), Nr. 143, erscheint i.a. als jul (soweit chaladsch Dialekte ii bewahren) oder jil, nur in wenigen Orten findet

sich die p. Form jul. Vgl. nun Am. (auch Zand) jöl (dagegen ÄS., Kah., auch Vafs jol).-

66

GERHARD DOERFER

‘Schlapp, locker’ (p. Sol, ta. Sul), Nr. 536/537, erscheint i.a. in der p.

Form sul, jedoch als Sil in Kaëa, als sül(/) in Ahmadabad; vgl. Am. söl, Vafs sill (dagegen A&., Kah. Sol). “Huf

(p. som, ta. sum), Nr. 139, erscheint öfter als sum, jedoch ist

auch sim(m), süm weit verbreitet (besonders im Zentrum). In Am. sömb (A8., Kah. somb). ‘Ahre’ (p. sonbol, ta. sumbul), Nr. 219, erscheint in Espit als summul, jedoch in Zizgan als simbil und in Xarrab als simmil. ‘Seitenlocke’ (p. zolf, ta. zulf), Nr. 46, erscheint i.a. als zulf, jedoch in

Hezarabad als zilf, in Dermanak als zülf. Vgl. Am. zölf (A8., Kah. zolf). Es sind auBerdem in Xarrab mehrere Beispiele dieser Art belegt, z.B. hindr “Tüchtigkeit’ (p., AS. honar), ift ‘Verlust’ (p. oft), imied ‘Hoffnung’

(p., AS. omid, ta. uméd), rik ‘aufrichtig’ (p., AS. rok), tifäng ‘Gewehr’ (p., AS. tofang). All diese Formen sind auch keineswegs aus dem Aserbeidschanischen/Oghusischen entlehnt; sie erinnern eher an kurdische Formen wie cil (sprich [jöl] usw., kurd. i = [6]), sil, sim, simil, zilf, hiner, imüd, rik, tifeng. Da türk. u im Chaladsch erhalten bleibt, dürften die Formen mit dem Lautübergang u > ü, i auf einen alten CT oder zentraliranischen Dialekt zurückgehen. Alles in allem ergibt sich der Eindruck: Dem Chaladsch liegen alte (heute wahrscheinlich ausgestorbene) CT bzw. (besonders im Süden) zentraliranische Substrate zugrunde. Wie wir sahen, bietet uns das Chaladsch einen Einblick in die ältere

Geschichte der tati Dialekte Chaladschistans. Hier muß allerdings noch viel erarbeitet werden. Vor allem müssen die Lexeme (und Morpheme) noch vollständiger und eingehender auf ihre iranischen Ursprünge zurückgeführt werden. Hier gibt es sehr interessante Belege wie diryäsim

(Xarräb, WCh.) ‘Brandmal’ = p. dorüs, A3. Kia dirisom, mittelp. drösm, armen.

drosm

(s. Bailey in BSOS

6, 594). Auch

gibt es interessante

calques im Chaladsch. Wenn z.B. in den CT Dialekten bar nicht nur ‘Tur’ bedeutet (s. oben), sondern auch ‘außerhalb’, so kann es nicht verwundern, daß auch in chaladsch Dialekten *esük nicht nur in der

Bedeutung ‘Tur’ erscheint (Nr. 301), sondern auch in der Bedeutung ‘außerhalb (p. birün), s. Lexik Nr. 596 (Vasqan, Talxäb, also Norden). All dies kann hier nicht dargestellt werden--aber eine Untersuchung der iranischen Elemente im Chaladsch würde ein vorzügliches Dissertationsthema abgeben.

TATI IN CHALADSCH

67

ABKÜRZUNGEN Alvir/Vidar = E. Yarshater: The Dialects of Alvir and Vidar. In: Mélanges présentés à Georg Morgenstierne à l’occasion de son soixante-dixieme anniversaire. Wiesbaden 1964, 177-187. Grammar = Ehsan Yar-Shater: À Grammar of Southern Tati Dialects. The Hague/Paris 1969. Kajal = E. Yarshater: “The Tati Dialect of Kajal”, BSOAS 23 (1960), 277-286. Kia = Sadeq Kia: Güyes-e Astian. Teheran 1335 $./1956. Lexik = G. Doerfer: Lexik und Sprachgeographie des Chaladsch. Wiesbaden

1987. LEE] = G. Doerfer: “Zu mongolisch ‘keyenüwe , Acta Orientalia Hungarica 28 (1974), 99-110. Mogaddam = M. Mogaddam: Güyes-e Vafs va Astian va Tafras. Teheran 1318 h.S. Oranskij = I.M. Oranskij: Vvedenie v iranskuju filologiju. Moskva 1960. p. = persisch. Rämand = E. Yarshater: “The Tati Dialects of Rämand”. In: A Locust’s Leg, Studies in Honour of S.H. Tagizadeh. London 1962, 240-245. Shahrud = E. Yarshater: “The Dialect of Shahrud (Khalkhal)”. BSOAS 22 (1959), 52-68. ta. = tadschikisch nach E.E. Bertel’s: Tadziksko-russkij slovar’. Moskva 1954. Tarom = E. Yarshater: “The Tati Dialects of Tärom”. In: W.B. Henning MM

Memorial Volume. London 1970, 451-467. WCh = G. Doerfer, S. Tezcan: Wörterbuch des Chaladsch

rab). Budapest 1980. Abkürzungen wie Tak., Esh. usw. wie in Grammar.

(Dialekt von Xar-

ECKART

EHLERS

THE CITY OF THE ISLAMIC MIDDLE EAST A GERMAN GEOGRAPHER’S PERSPECTIVE There are only very few themes and topics that have raised as much interest among German geographers as the phenomenon of the city in the Islamic Middle East. A reconstruction of its exploration and partly highly controversial interpretation show two foci of interest: first, formal description and analysis and, second, a discussion of its func-

tions, especially in regard to its respective hinterland. The question remains to what degree these criteria can be considered sufficient to establish the city of the Islamic Middle East as a type of its own, 1.e., as a specific and unique expression of Islamic history, thought and belief.

The city of the Islamic Middle East: the formal aspect. Early discussions of German geographers in regard to the essentials and unique features of the city of the Islamic Middle East have been profoundly influenced by early publications of “Islamologists” and historians of Islamic culture. The almost classical study by G.V. Grunebaum has been of special importance. It was under the influence of these and similar publications, that German geographers started a more or less systematic inventory of Middle Eastern cities, focussing before all on the regions of historic Palestine and Iran. Based on these studies and incorporating the argumentation of western orientalists, Dettmann has published a descriptive model of the

city of the Islamic Middle East. This ideal simplification, based almost exclusively on formal aspects of the city shape and its inner differentiation, must be considered as probably the most accepted and acknowledged description of the city of the Islamic Middle East in German geography so far. (Plate III) Later publications have undoubtedly contributed to a less stereotype view. Especially Wirth added new aspects to the discussion on the very essence of the city of the Islamic Middle East. It was above all his identification of the bazaar as the almost sole, and at the same

time,

biggest cultural achievement of medieval Middle Eastern urbanity, that 1

THE “ISLAMIC CITY”

69

stirred academic discussions even beyond the field of geography (Wirth, 1974 and 1975). Although embedded in the discussion about the essence and specific character of the city of the Islamic Middle East under predominantly formal aspects, Wirth argued quite convincingly that the bazaar or sug may be seen as the only relevant criterion for a distinct and unique urbanity of the Islamic Middle East in comparison to that of other cultures. In contrast, most of the other features in Dettmann’s

ideal model are identified as either pre-Islamic or more or less ubiquitous (Wirth, 1975). Nevertheless, the so far most detailed German geographical studies of cities of the Islamic Middle East are devoted primarily to an analysis of their urban fabric. Both studies by Gaube and Wirth on the bazaar of Isfahan and on Aleppo concentrate on a documentation of their architecture and its historical background. Discussions of social and/or economic

relevance are absent or, at least, of minor importance.

And

when they take place, they are hardly devoted to the Islamic foundations of social and economic order, but to aspects of modern survival strategies of traditional crafts and organizations in a westernized world. The strong emphasis on formal aspects of the Middle Eastern city, especially apparent in the early studies of German geographers, has undoubtedly contributed to the establishment and adoption of a stereotype. This fixation is the more problematic since J. Abu-Lughod’s analysis of the “isnad” of the “Islamic city.” Notwithstanding her probably somewhat inconsiderate (or intentional?) acceptance and/or adoption of the term “Islamic city” (cf. Cahen), her argumentation is extremely convincing. Her identification of the ideal “Islamic city” and the propagation of their idea through V. Grunebaum is true not only for the English, American and French tradition of research, but also for large parts of German geographical research on cities in the Islamic Middle East. In spite of some occasional hints as to pre-Islamic origins or almost ubiquitous occurences of phenomena like walls, citygates, blind alleys and/or inner urban differentiations. of ethnic or religious quarters (Wirth, 1975), the formal characteristics have persevered as one, if not the decisive factor of Middle Eastern urbanity.

The city of the Islamic Middle East: the functional aspect. Besides formal aspects, questions of function and city-hinterland relationships have attracted considerable academic interest. Based on

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ECKART EHLERS

Bobek’s theory of the parasitic character of Middle Eastern urbanism, ideas which were first published before World War II (Bobek, 1938), especially his theory of rent-capitalism (1959) have greatly promoted German geographical research on Middle Eastern cities. At the same it has stirred up academic emotions as to the pros and cons of this explanatory attempt to understand urban society and economy in the Islamic Middle East. Bobek’s basic idea of rent-capitalism reads as follows (1959, p. 257): “Rent capitalism was a true capitalism insofar as it was characterized by a striving for unlimited gain and in so far as it adopted accounting practices and attained a high degree of accountancy and rationality, characteristics that are lacking in all the earlier stages of evolution of mankind, including the lordly order. Rentcapitalism differed from the more recent “capitalism” ... in that it was not linked with production, but rather was satisfied with skimming off its proceeds. In regard to production it remained fundamentally sterile. For this reason it lent to ancient urbanism as a whole a definitely parasitical character. On the other hand, since it concentrated a good part of the products of agriculture, mining and other primary branches of production in the-cities and put them within reach of a rather broad and differentiated element of the population there, it gave these cities the possibility of an unheard of rise not only in the number of their inhabitants, but also in material and cultural levels.” Scientific discussion about the parasitic and — especially in regard to urban hinterlands — extremely exploitative character of cities in the Islamic Middle East caused a most controversial, but at the same time productive discussion among German geographers about the rent-capitalistic approach (Bobek, 1974; Ehlers, 1978, 1983; Leng, 1974; Müller,

1983; Wirth, 1973). It has been only for a few years thatthis discussion has calmed down so that a kind of preliminary résumé can be drawn. It is an empirically proven fact that cities within the area of present-day Islamic Middle East have always been and still are both organizers and users of economic activities of their respective hinterlands. Property titles on rural land and water, marketing systems for rural goods like grain, animals or animal products, manufacturing and marketing of carpets, private and public services in rural areas: all have been and are still organized by the dominant city. And it is the city and its inhabi-

THE “ISLAMIC CITY”

71

tants that skim off all values added and almost all profits and benefits through their organizational and entrepreneurial activities, skills and connections. In regard to rural products, the fact alone that landlords and owners of large herds and flocks are absentee landlords and reside in cities, is sufficient enough to establish an economic superiority of the city over its rural hinterland. The example of the production of carpets and their marketing (for details see Ehlers, 1977, 1982) reveal that, under extreme conditions, only two activities are of economic benefit and favor for the rural area: the production of wool and cotton as the basic raw materials of carpets and parts of the knitting process. All other economic activities and benefits are concentrated on cities as organizational centers of their hinterlands. (Plate IV) The overwhelming influence of the theory of rent-capitalism may be considered as the second characteristic of German geography and its attempt to identify the very essence and uniqueness of the city in the Islamic Middle East. It must be noted that — very probably due to the fact that Iran served as Bobek’s foremost research area — mainly examples from Iran served as illustration for the verification or falsification of the rent-capitalistic concept. Comparative studies from other parts of the Islamic Middle East still are scarce. In spite of the fact, or may be even because many of the investigated case studies seem to support the acceptability of the rent-capitalistic concept, a question remains. The question is whether rent-capitalism is not equally suitable to explain parasitic dominance of cities and the urban exploitive grip on rural hinterlands also in other cultures, including the West. The very fact that many studies in the English or French speaking world have come to similar conclusions without knowing of Bobek’s concept, strengthen the question of the eventually ubiquitous applicability of this theoretical approach.

The geographer’s city of the Islamic Middle East: a city without Islam and without Muslims?

Form and geographical consideration the “Islamic

function have been and still are the main topics of German research on the city of the Islamic Middle East. Their as the main features of an unmistakable uniqueness of city” seem nevertheless extremely questionable. Even if mosque, bazaar, hammam or madrasa are indispensible and obvious parts of these form and functions, these seem to be exchangeable with

2

ECKART EHLERS

similar institutions in other cultures and traditions, with the possible exception of the bazaar (Wirth 1974, 1975). It is before this background that again and again the question has been raised whether these criteria are really sufficient to determine the postulated uniqueness of the city of the Islamic Middle East. It may be part of the academic tradition of geography to concentrate on phenomenological criteria and spatial structures in order to identify cultural individuality — culture in a material sense. It is a fact that the foundations and expressions of religious, spiritual, political, and socio-

economic culture remained widely unobserved in regard to geographical investigations and interpretations of urban reality. This, of course, does not refer to the aforementioned symbols of religion (mosque, etc.), but it refers to the Islamic foundations of urban society and economy and their institutions. Islamologists of different schools have stressed again and again the tremendous social and economic importance of Islamic institutions and their spatial as well as regional effects. This becomes especially apparent in many historical studies like those of Hourani and Stern (1970), Lapidus (1967, 1969), Mantran (1962), Raymond (197374, etc.) and many others. In these studies urban form and especially urban functions are the result of social, political and/or religious preconditions. They are the outcome of specific social and economic orders. In other words, they are the spatial expression of Islamic institutions and organizations. The question, from a geographical perspective, is if religious, institutions and organizations are not better suited to cope with the central problem of the geography of the city of the Islamic Middle East. Religious endowments, are institutions and organizations with a very distinct spatial impact. Wagf endowments have for long been of special interest for Middle Eastern historians. Inalcik (19 ) and Raymond (1979) have convincingly proven the great architectural and economic importance of religious endowments for the development and spatial differentiation of metropoles like Istanbul, Aleppo or Damascus. But wagf/habous are by no means of only historic interest, they are also of contemporary importance. This, however, means that they are part of the social and economic reality of modern Middle Eastern urbanity. As such they should be of relevance also for the urban geographer. In German geography, very few studies have been conducted on spatial, social and economic effects of religious endowments. One of the first to consider wagf as an important part of urban existence and development was Momeni (pp. 40-48) in his study on the city and

THE “ISLAMIC CITY”

16

hinterland of Malayer. He showed that not only the foundation of the city in the year 1807 was closely connected with the establishment of wagf-endowments in its immediate vicinity, but also that present-day Malayer is unthinkable without this religious background. The same holds true for Taft in central Iran (Ehlers and Momeni, 1989). In North Africa, Stôber (1985, 1986) has analyzed role and function of “habous

public” for the urban structure of Chauen in particular and for Morocco in general. (Plates V and VI) Traditional city centers like Malayer or Taft or Yazd (Bonine) are unthinkable without religious endowments. It is not only their physical presence in the form of mosques, shrines, bazaars or caravanserais, but

likewise and eventually even more so their presence as a social institution and as an economic factor. Religious endowments serve vital social and economic interests of and for the city. Besides the creation of urban infrastructure like mosques, hammams, madrasas or shops they function as the creator of full or part-time jobs. Hardly to be overestimated are their contributions to the organization and performance of religious festivities. Especially during the months of Ramadan and Moharram, all religious celebrations are connected in one way or another with the receipts from religious endowments, whether they are located in the city itself or in its rural neighborhood. Besides rather extensive properties in the cities (Bonine, 1987; Ehlers and Momeni,

1989; Stöber, 1985), wagf-

administrations command considerable portions of city-hinterlands. Malayer’s religious institutions, e.g., were endowed at various stages with villages and their agriculturally productive lands as well as with ganäts or parts of them (Momeni, pp. 45-47). 11.7% of Taft’s irrigated gardens and 10% of its fields are religious endowments. Together with the returns from ganät water of different kind, all these forms of income contribute considerably to the performance of religious functions and to the creation of jobs and social benefits in the city of Taft (Ehlers and Momeni, 1989). The analysis of religious endowments and their social and economic impact on cities raises two questions. First, whether pious foundations in the Islamic Middle East do not increase the traditional parasitic grip of cities over their rural hinterlands. Is not the channelling of rural products in cash or kind in the form of endowments to urban-based religious institutions just another form of the cities’ exploitation of their rural hinterlands in a rent-capitalistic manner? If so, then this interpre-

tation would give an additional new dimension to the widely accepted connotation of Islam as being an “urban religion.” The second ques-

74

ECKART EHLERS

tion is whether these forms of religious endowments are really specific Islamic institutions to be found exclusively in the realm of Islam? As long as we lack comparative studies in other parts of the world, we may be justified, however, to consider religious endowments and their impact on urban society and economy as a genuine, unique and specific characteristic of the city in the Islamic Middle East. Concluding remarks.

In Abu-Lughod’s critical analysis of the “‘isnad” of the Islamic city as a phenomenon of Western academic discussion and reception we find a proposal of at least four “forces” which could have been, according to her opinion, part of the formation of the traditional city in the realm of Islam (Abu-Lughod, p. 162). These are: terrain/climate and related physical features of environment; a technology of production, distribution and transportation; a system of social organization; and a legal, political system. Two of these have surely been included in analyses of Middle Eastern urbanisms by German geographers in one way or another: technology (and organization) of production, distribution and transportation as well as relevant aspects of social organization. The question remains, however, if these criteria are sufficient for the identification and unmistakeable uniqueness of ans “Islamic city,” even in combination with others — an idea, which Abu-Lughod dismisses herself. So her conclusion that “social, political and legal characteristics of Islam” may be the decisive factors for the creation and transformation of Islamic cities, is probably true. The acknowledgement of such a statement would, however, mean that German geographers (and others eventually too!) would have to turn away from their traditional approaches. Instead, they would have to turn to the study of the religious foundations of Islamic cities and to that of Islamic institutions and organizations and their spatial as well as their socio-economic consequences and implications. In view of a rapidly modernizing and changing world this would mean, however, that such a change of perspective and research focus would have to happen rather soon. It could be rewarded by a better understanding of the peculiarity of the city of the Islamic Middle East! BIBLIOGRAPHY The following bibliography contains only the titles mentioned in the text. A somewhat lengthier bibliography of German book titles on the Islamic Middle

THE “ISLAMIC CITY”

75

East is compiled in: E. Ehlers, “German Geography of the Middle East. Trends and Prospects,” MESA Bulletin 19, 1985, 183-95. J. Abu-Lughod, “The Islamic City: Historic Myth, Islamic Essence, and Contemporary Relevance,” JJMES 19, 1987, pp. 155-76. H. Bobek, “Über einige funktionelle Stadttypen und ihre Beziehungen zum Lande,” Comptes Rendues Congrés Internationale de Géographie Amsterdam 1938, Vol. 2, Sec. 3a (Géographie Humaine), Leiden, 1938, pp. 88-102. Idem, “Die Hauptstufen der Gesellschafts- und Wirtschaftsentfaltung in geographischer Sicht,” Die Erde 90, 1959, pp. 259-98; Eng. Tr.: “The Main Stages in Socio-Economic Evolution from a Geographical Point of View,” in Readings in Cultural Geography, ed. P.L. Wagner and M.W. Mikesell, Chicago, 1961, pp. 218-47. Idem, “Zum Konzept des Rentenkapitalismus,” Tijdschrift voor Economische en Sociale Geografie 65, 1974, pp. 73-78. M. Bonine, “Islam and Commerce: Waqf and the Bazaar of Yazd, Iran,” Erdkunde 41, 1987, pp. 182-96. C. Cahen, “Zur Geschichte der städtischen Gesellschaft im islamischen Orient des Mittelalters,” Saeculum 9, 1958, pp. 59-76. K. Dettmann, Damaskus — eine orientalische Stadt zwischen Tradition und Moderne, Erlanger Geographische Arbeiten 27, Erlangen, 1969. E. Ehlers, “City and Hinterland in Iran: The Example of Tabas/Khorassan,” Tijdschrift voor Economische en Sociale Geographie 68, 1977, pp. 284-96. Idem, “Rentenkapitalismus und Stadtentwicklung im islamischen Orient. Beispiel: Iran,” Erdkunde 32, 1978, pp. 124-42. Idem, “Teppichmanufaktur und Teppichhandel in Arak/Farahan — Iran,” Der Islam 59, 1982, pp. 222-53. Idem, ““Rent-Capitalism and Unequal Development in the Middle East: The Case of Iran,” In Work, Income and Inequality. Payment Systems in the Third World, ed. F. Stewart, London, 1983, pp. 32-61. Idem, and M. Momeni, “Religiöse Stiftungen und Stadtentwicklung - Das Beispiel Taft/Zentraliran,’” Erdkunde 43, 1989, pp. 16-26. H. Gaube and E. Wirth, Der Bazar von Isfahan, Beihefte, Tübinger Atlas des Vorderen Orients, Ser. B 22, Wiesbaden, 1978. Idem, Aleppo. Historische und geographische Beiträge zur baulichen Gestaltung, zur sozialen Organisation und zur wirtschaftlichen Dynamik einer vorderasiatischen Fernhandelsmetropole, Beihefte, Tübinger Atlas des Vorderen Orients, Ser. B. 58. Wiesbaden, 1984. G.V. Grunebaum, “Die islamische Stadt,” Saeculum 6, 1955, pp. 138-53; Eng. Ver.: “The Structure of the Muslim Town”, Islam. Essays in the Nature and Growth ofa Cultural Tradition. London, 1955, pp. 141-58. A.H. Hourani, and S.M. Stern, eds., The Islamic City, Oxford, 1970. H. Inalcik, The Ottoman Empire. The Classical Age 1300-1600, New York,

1973. Idem, “Istanbul,” in Encyclopaedia of Islam IV, Leiden, 1978, pp. 224-48. I.M. Lapidus, Muslim Cities in the Later Middle Ages, Cambridge, Mass., 1967.

Idem, ed., Middle Eastern Cities. A Symposium on Ancient, Islamic, and Contemporary Middle Eastern Urbanism, Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1969.

76 G. Leng, ‘“‘Rentenkapitalismus’ oder ‘Feudalismus’? Kritische Untersuchungen über einen (sozial-) geographischen Begriff,” Geogr. Zeitschrift 62, 1974, pp. 119-37. R. Mantran, Istanbul dans la seconde moitié du XVII° siècle. Essai d'histoire institutionelle, économique et sociale, Bibliothèque Archéologique et Historique de l’Institut Français d'Archéologie d'Istanbul 12, 1962, Paris. M. Momeni, Malayer und sein Umland. Entwicklung, Struktur und Funktion einer Kleinstadt in Iran, Marburger Geographische Schriften, Marburg, 1976. K.P. Muller, Unterentwicklung durch ‘‘Rentenkapitalismus’’? Geschichte, Analyse und Kritik eines sozialgeographischen Begriffes und seiner Rezeption. Urbs et Regio. Kasseler Schriften zur Geografie und Planung 29., Kassel, 1983. Raymond, A., Artisans et commerçants au Caire au XVIII® siècle, 2 vols. Damascus 1973-74. Idem, “Les grands wagfs et l’organisation de l’espace urbain à Alep et au Caire à l’époque ottomane (XVI°-XVII® siècles)” Bulletin d'Etudes Orientales de l’Institut Français de Damas 31, 1979, pp. 113-28. Idem, The Great Arab Cities in the 16th-18th Centuries. An Introduction, New York, 1984. Idem, Grandes villes arabes à l'époque ottomane, Paris, 1985.

G. Stôber, ““‘Habous Public’ in Chaouen. Zur wirtschaftlichen Bedeutung religiöser Stiftungen in Nordmarokko,” Die Welt des Islam 25, 1985, pp. 97-125. Idem, “Habous Public” in Marokko. Zur wirtschaftlichen Bedeutung religiöser Stiftungen im 20. Jahrhundert, Marburger Geographische Schriften 104, Marburg,

1986.

E. Wirth, “Die Beziehungen der orientalisch-islamischen Stadt zum umgebenden Lande. Ein Beitrag zur Theorie des Rentenkapitalismus,” in Geographie heute. Einheit und Vielfalt. Ernst Plewe zu seinem 65. Geburtstag, ed. E. Meynen, Wiesbaden, 1973, pp. 323-33. Idem, “Zum Problem des Bazars (süg, garsi). Versuch einer Begriffsbestimmung und Theorie des traditionellen Wirtschaftszentrums der orientalisch-islamischen Stadt,” Der Islam 51, 174, pp. 203-60 and 52, 1975, pp. 6-46. Idem, “Die orientalische Stadt. Ein Überblick aufgrund jüngerer Forschungen zur materiellen Kultur,” Saeculum 26, 1975, pp. 45-94.

WILHELM

EILERS

NEUPERSISCHE GUID “EULE”’ Zu den bisher nicht erklärten persischen Wörtern gehört der Vogelname guyd, der in der literarischen Sprache die Eule bezeichnet!. Die äussere Lautgebung mit -yd- weist auf ostiranischen Ursprung, wo air. xt zu -yd entwickelt ist wie in duyd »Tochter, Mädchen, Braut« < duyt (av. duyöä/duyda). Man gelangt so zu einer Vorform *yuyd< yuxta-

“verbunden”. Aber was hat diese Bedeutung mit dem Tatsächlich gibt es guyd im Sinne von einer Haarfrisur: müyi-ra niz gufta-and (Burhän-i Oäti‘, s.v.), also ein auf dem eine Art Dutt?.

Vogelnamen “verbunden” ke bar pas-i Hinterkopf

der Eule zu tun? zur Bezeichnung sar girih zanand geknotetes Haar,

Im Neupersischen ist yuyt mit bekannter Entwicklung zu guft geworden. Das interessiert hier insoweit, als guftak angeblich gleichfalls eine Vogelart bezeichnet, deren auffalligen Namen eine abenteuerliche Volksetymologie zu erklären sucht, die im Burhän-i Oäti‘ folgendermassen lautet:

»Das Männchen und Weibchen dieses Vogels haben zusammen nur éinen Flügel. Anstelle des anderen Flügels hat das Mannchen einen Haken (qullab), das Weibchen aber einen Ring (halga) (aus Knochen). Wenn sie aber fliegen, so steckt das Männchen den Haken in den Ring des Weibchens, und so fliegen sie miteinander. sie aber Körner fressen, so gehen sie wieder auseinander.

Wenn

Nahe beieinander aber ‘weiden’ sie. Auf arabisch nennt man sie /a yanfakk.« Leider

erfahren

wir

nicht,

welcher

Vogel

‘mit

dieser

Unwahr-

scheinlichkeit gemeint ist. Es soll eben offenbar nur der merkwürdige Vogelname erklärt werden. Der sonst unverständliche Vogelname guyd könnte vielleicht hinter diesem zur Erklärung erfundenen Namen stecken. Dennoch hat np. guyd “Eule” einen leicht einzusehenden Ursprung, wenn wir Wort und Wesen in mazdayasnische Zeit zurückversetzen. Da bleibt es zunächst durchaus bei guyd= yuyt “verbunden”. Der Name

78

WILHELM EILERS

stellt nämlich eine Ellipse dar: “Verbunden” — aber womit? Die Antwort lautet mit asa/arta- verbunden. So werden die Frommen in Yasna 49, 9 genannt: sie heissen asda (instr.) yuxta. Ganz so wie dort die asa-gläubigen Zarathustrier gilt auch die Eule als mit dem heiligen Ascha verbunden: asa yuyta. Sie ist ein ““Gottesvogel”, und so wird sie ja noch heute genannt: mury-i Haggq. Ruft die Eule doch nächtens hu-hü. Und einer ihrer Namen ist deshalb hü'güyak. Das ist uminterpretiertes hi als arab. huwa “ER”, nämlich “Gott”, al-Haqq. Die verschiedenen Wörter für “Eule” sind aufgelistet bei Ulrich Schapka, Die persischen Vogelnamen (Würzburger philosophische Dissertation 1972) unter den Nummern

94, 97, 101, 182, 183, 185, 216, 230,

708, 888. Auch sonst gilt die Eule ja als Vogel der Weisheit und Gottesfurcht. In der alten Welt des Mittelmeeres ist sie das Gottesemblem der Athene/Minerva (N yAabé). Also steht guyd < (sc. asa) yuxta “Eule” als altes Kultwort dem parallelen a5ö.zusta- “vom Arta geliebt” zur Seite, mit dem das Awesta in Vendidad 17, 9 den Namen der Eule als eines ahurischen Tieres überliefert. In turk. baykus d.. bay'qus ‘‘Gottesvogel” (bay < pers. bay < altpers. baga-) lebt die gleiche Vorstellung vom mury-i Haqq weiter, einer ebenfalls gängigen Bezeichnung der Eule unter den heutigen Persern. Deutlich unterscheiden sich die “theologischen” Eulennamen von den populären Namen auch des Uhus und Käuzchens, die auf Nachahmung des nächtlichen Rufes dieser Vögel beruhen und Labiale bevorzugen:

pers. arab. ngr. frz. span. ital.

büf, küf, kükan büm (a fem.) Kkovkovßayıa hibou buha gufa

x

(freilich nüchtern-römisch noctua). Allenthalben herrscht hier klangbezogen der dunkle u-Vokal vor (lat. ulüla; dt. Eule < ahd. uwila). Die Eule (und ihresgleichen) ist ein unheimlicher Vogel. Überall lebt ihr numinoser Charakter im Aberglauben weiter. Dem lateinisch-italienischen striga “(alte) Hexe” liegt lat. strix À otpiyé “Eule” zugrunde. Auch die Perser sagen sprichwörtlich: baum sum ast.

NP “EULE”

79

ANMERKUNGEN ! Die Form Cuyü für “Eule” ist einfach Verschreibung von cuyd mit € für g und u für d. 2 Wieso kungara-yi qal‘a va hisär ebenfalls Cuyd heisst (BQ), lässt sich vielleicht als Missverständnis des Ruinen bewohnenden Vogels erklären. Oder ein Terminus des Festungsbaues?

R.E. EMMERICK

TWO MORE

KHOTANESE

GHOSTWORDS

l. *vijyat na This word was printed in both editions of KBT in Sum 1058 KBT 143: sumukha ngma mahäyäna-suträ dayya byamja jsini kaka vijyat na uspurra dasyd. In Sum the phrase sumukha näma däyya byämja jsini ka’ka vijya occurs repeatedly (e.g. lines 936, 962-3, 966-7, 973, 980-981). It corresponds to Tibetan sgo bzan-po zes bgyi-bahi chos-kyi rnam-grans che skyon-bahi rig-snags ‘the method of the Law (dharmaparyäya) called Sumukha, knowledge (vidya) that protects life’. Thus it is clear that vijyat ‘na must be divided into vijya and tna. But what is Ina? In his edition of Sum Shuyo Takubo, Tonkö Shutsudo Utengo Himitsu Kyötenshü no Kenkyü, Tokyo 1975, proposed on p. 191 the reading td’na for t'na and explained rä’na as the equivalent of ttina ‘by that, therefore’ (p. 266). Takubo was undoubtedly correct in separating tna from vijya but not in reading it as tä na. -d- occurs frequently in this long manuscript and it never has the shape found above the ¢ of t'na: see the facsimile on p. 115 of Takubo’s book. We do not have the two dots of -d- but the semicircular virama found in saddham (line 755,

facsimile p. 91 first word). Bailey’s reading is certainly correct. A passage similar to Sum 1058-1059 occurs at the end of the Sgh: [samghätä nä]ma mahäyäna-süträ ndta‘na däsyate (E 1.7 152r3 KT 5.79) ‘The Mahayanasutra called Samghata is completely finished’. It is accordingly virtually certain that tna in Sum 1058 is merely the end of *ndt ;na, which shows the reduction of an unstressed medial syllable commonly found in Khotanese. ndt na beside näta na may be compared

with kddna beside older kädana‘on account of. sumukha nama mahäyäna-suträ dayya byamja jsini kaka vijya *ndt’na uspurra dasyad should thus be rendered ‘The Mahäyänasütra called Sumukha, the method of the Law, the knowledge that protects life, is completely, wholly finished.’

2. *sipham In his Dictionary of Khotan Bailey has the following entry:

Saka, Cambridge

1979, p. 425 H.W.

TWO KHOTANESE

GHOSTWORDS

81

sipham ‘obscuring film (?)’, III 84.36-7 teimmenvä (-im- = -ai-) vi hä nestra-makaute hamäre garkhye drama siphäm vaste, jsinü-m jsa ni vijsesde ‘on eyes, the netra-mukuta- (crown on the eyes) becomes heavy; such film stays, he does not see the fine stuff (jseina-) because of it (-m jsa)’. From base saif-, with nasal simf‘to smear, stroke’, Av. saef-, Yast 14.35 ana parona taniim aiwi.sifois “you are to smear along the wings on the body’. See tcamph-, tcimph-, tcih- for the form. Hence sipham < *simfäna-. Bailey’s interpretation of nestra-makaute as being Sanskrit ‘netramukuta- “crown on the eyes”’ has not been supported by further evidence. It is unlikely that Sanskrit netra should be written nestra and the term netra-mukuta is in any case an invention of Bailey’s. In Acta Iranica, 23, 1984, 155, I suggested that h@ nestra-makaute hamäre be read hgne straha makaute hamäre. With this can be compared haune strehe! hamare in P 2893.266 KT 3.93. drama sipham vaste should be redivided as drg-masi pham vaste, which means ‘a speck of dust as big as a hair remains’. dr@-masi ‘the size of a hair is known from Old Khotanese’ dro-mase (Z 2.136) and from such Late Khotanese spellings as drrä-mase Manj 381 KBT 132 and drd-masa ‘Book of Vimalakirti’ 336 KBT 110. pham is a Late Khotanese reduced form of Old Khotanese phäna- ‘dust’. phand in Sgh (Herzenberg I, fol. 155v1) translates Sanskrit pämsu (ed. von Hinüber, verse 116). The assumption that Old Khotanese phänä could appear as Late Khotanese pham is supported by the reduction of words such as rrund ‘oil’ to Late Khotanese rrüm: see Bailey’s Dictionary of Khotan Saka s.v. rrund. The passage in question should be read: tcimeñvä vi häne *straha makaute hamäre garkhye drg-masi pham vaste jsinüm jsa ni vijsesde and provisionally rendered: ‘the eyelids on the eyes become stiffly closed (and) heavy; there remains dust the size of a hair (and) therefore one does not see tiny things.’

ABBREVIATIONS KBT

KTI-7

Bailey,

Khotanese

Buddhist

Texts,

London

1951;

=

H.W.

=

ed. 2 Cambridge 1981. H.W. Bailey, Khotanese texts I-VII, Cambridge 1945-1985 (vols 1-3 reprinted in one volume as ‘second edition’,

82

R.E. EMMERICK

Sgh Sum Z

= = =

Cambridge 1969 and 1980; vol.4 reprinted Cambridge 1979; vol. 5 reprinted Cambridge 1980). Sanghätasütra Sumukhasutra 4 R.E. Emmerick, The Book of Zambasta, a Khotanese Poem on Buddhism

(= London

1968.

NOTES ! Misprinted streha in all editions.

Oriental

Series vol. 21), London

GHERARDO GNOLI ON OLD PERSIAN FARNAHOnly after I had delivered my contribution to the Festschrift for Gilbert Lazard did I have the occasion to read the important article on farnah- and the Scythians by P. Lecog (1987) which, in a certain sense, represented the development of a previous contribution by the same author on the Median f (1983). Since Lecoq’s thesis clashes not only with that of P.O. Skjerve on farnah- (1983a), but also with the one proposed by myself, I thought it should be discussed and thus dedicate this

note

to Professor

Ehsan

Yarshater,

a scholar

who

has

made

masterly contributions to Iranian linguistic and dialectological studies. *

*

*

An innovative study on farnah- is the one cited above by Skjærva. It appeared shortly after the publication of a number of considerations by Lecoq (1983) which justly shed some doubts on the assumption that the hy > f change is Median in nature’. In fact, Skjervo quoted a passage from Lecoq’s contribution, published in 1983 but known as early as 1981 in the form of a paper read by J. Duchesne-Guillemin at the Gottingen symposium on the Achaemenians on the occasion of W. Hinz’ 75th birthday (Skjerve 1983a: 248 n. 6, 258f.; cf. Lecoq 1983: 142). Skjerve showed that in farnah- the f change is a pan-Iranian phenomenon except for Av. x’aranah- and Pahl. xwarrah and that it cannot be considered specific to or characteristic of any dialect in particular. I personally consider his demonstration to be conclusive since it appears to be solidly grounded on the entire range of linguistic documentation available in the Iranian area?. It was therefore on the basis of Skjærvo’s results that I proposed (in press) the hypothesis of a possible lexical differentiation inside Middle Persian. This I did in the above-mentioned contribution in which I also referred to several considerations made by Ph. Gignoux (1986: 9f.) in the introduction to his book on Sassanian proper names in epigraphic Middle Persian*. I shall return to my hypothesis in the conclusions. I shall now focus my attention on Lecoq’s thesis and on his criticism of Skjerve’s.

84

GHERARDO

GNOLI

In the first place Lecog criticizes Skjaerve’s claim (1983a: 252, 254, 257) that the absence of farnah- in Old Persian inscriptions is indicative of the absence of any possible role it. could have played in the Achaemenian regal ideology and would thus militate against the idea that this concept spread during the early Persian empire. Lecoq claims that farnah- did not only express a traditional concept of kingly legitimacy, a kind of ‘gloire royale’, but also the idea of ‘fortune personnelle, que peut détenir un simple particulier’. In fact, he concludes that it was ‘a ce titre que farnah- a pu se propager à l’époque achéménide, comme l’atteste à profusion l’onomastique’ (1987: 676). Secondly, Lecoq points out that Skjærvo’s thesis of a dissimilation *hvarnah- > farnah- (hv-h > f-h) for the noun and for the adjective *hvarnahvant- > *farnahvant- > farrox (hv-hv > f-hv), except in Avestan and Pahlavi, is, in his opinion, too complicated and in any case would involve too many steps and therefore too long an evolution. He admits of course that such a thesis is theoretically not impossible (ibid.: 676), although claiming that it is rather unlikely, also because it would be the only instance of its kind. This phenomenon of dissimilation would thus have occurred only for farnah- and not also for other words displaying the same features, such as *x'ahar- ‘sister’ (Av. x’anhar-) (ibid.: 677). Thirdly, according to Lecoq, a solution would have to be found for the problem of Pahl. xwarrah. He writes: ‘Ce n’est pas un emprunt à

l’avestique et Skjærvo suppose que “dans le dialecte de base [?] hu s’est de bonne heure transformé en xw”, mais il ne dit pas quand, comment,

ni pourquoi” (ibid.). This is not all: Lecoq endeavours to find examples in certain Iranian words of a spontaneous f change that, in his opinion, would make the thesis of dissimilation in the case of farnah- even less credible. The possible examples are two proper names ®aıuöbun* and Dapaonavng’ (ibid: 677f.). He goes even further and, after observing that names with farnah- seem to appear in the Assyrian annals from the time of Sargon II, puts forward the hypothesis that ‘Si le mot farnah- n’est pas mede, il faut bien qu'il ait été apporté dans l’onomastique par une autre population iranienne’. He believes this to be a Scythian population: ‘c’est à cette époque que surviennent les invasions scythes, elles-mêmes précédées par celle des Cimmeriens’ (ibid.: 678). It would therefore be necessary to find some trace of a Scythian spoken language characterized by an f derived from the Ir. hv.

OLD PERSIAN FARNAH

85

This marks the beginning of the constructive part of Lecoq’s thesis. On the basis of the works of M. Vasmer (1923), J. Harmatta (19501952) and V.I. Abaev (1979), he examines seven known names in Greek

script: Mndavakoc®,

Pddaxocg’,

DdcaKxoc®,

Pdpos®,

Dopnpavog!®

PapCnoc'!, Pookn!2. Since no satisfactory etymology has apparently

been found for them, Lecoq is tempted to view the initial f as a development of the Ir. Av. He then casts an eye over the Ossetic vocabulary which, as is known, ‘a déja emprunté farn’ (1987: 680) and selects fun ‘sleep’ (see Av. x’afna-)!?, which can be distinguished from the verbal form xussun ‘to sleep’ deriving from the same root *x%ap-. He claims that Ossetic borrowed fun from the same Scythian dialect from which it had taken farn (ibid.: 681). He concludes that, despite some residual doubts, ‘dès l’instant où l’on

rejette ’hypothese mede, on ne peut éviter celle d’une origine scythe’. This provides an admirable explanation of the spread of farnahthroughout western Iran, to the shores of the Black Sea, into Ossetic and also into Sogdian and Khotanese, ‘qui sont tous deux des parlers de type scythique ’. The traces of an f dialect are unfortunately few and far between, but they exist ‘du côté scythe, alors qu'ils font défaut du côté mede’. How can all this be explained? By means of the ephemeral role played by a Scythian tribe, ‘dont le seul grand moment dans la destinée a été de se trouver en contact étroit, mais fugitif, avec le grand empire des Medes’. A word from their language meaning ‘fortune personnelle, gloire individuelle’ apparently spread into Median onomastics and thence into Persian, ‘profitant du vide laissé par l’abandon de la forme x’arnah-, qui refletait une conception politique perimee’ (ibid.: 681). In my view, none of the arguments used by Lecoq against Skjervo’s thesis is really convincing. Onomastics generally tends to be very conservative and therefore that proper names referring to persons during the Achaemenian period represent evidence of the spread of the concept of farnah- in the sense of ‘personal fortune’ is pure conjecture; and a rather unlikely conjecture at that, since the distinction made between the meanings of ‘personal fortune’ and ‘royal glory’, allowed also by Skjerve (1983: 254) is, to my mind, the result of over-simplification!*. It is true that the idea of a possible dissimilation is complicated and that it probably entails a comparatively lengthy evolution, but it is equally true that it still provides a theoretically plausible explanation of all the various available data. The examples of sponta-

86

GHERARDO GNOLI

neous f changes are highly uncertain, both Daiôdun and Papaouävns'$. The same can be said for all the cases of Scythian names analyzed by Lecog as possible examples of the hv > f change, with the possible exception of the toponym ®voxn (< *huska- ‘dry’; cf. Sivandı fesk). The comparatively isolated argument represented by the Oss. fun cannot therefore be considered conclusive. What therefore remains of Lecoq’s thesis? Three points, which must

be further discussed: a) the argument of the Scythian invasion; b) the historical solution of the spread of farnah- ‘personal fortune’ during the Achaemenian period; c) the problem of Pahl. xwarrah. Let us examine them in detail. Point a) seems to be based on a highly dubious assumption. To my mind, it is extremely unlikely that the Scythian invasion mentioned by Herodotus (I, 103), of less than thirty years’ duration, would have had such an extensive and profound influence on the Old Iranian vocabulary, and occasionally in close association with Avestan onomastics to boot. Good examples of this is the OP Vi"dafarnah- and Av. Viôat. x’aranah- (Mayrhofer 1977: 95 no. 365) and names that can be reconstructed by means of Nebenüberlieferungen, such as *Atrfarnah- (Hinz 1975: 48), corresponding to Av. Atarax*aranah- (Mayrhofer 1977: 30 no. 73) and *Frddafarnah- (Hinz 1975: 96), corresponding to Av. Frddat.x*aranah- (Mayrhofer 1977: 42f. no. 136). Furthermore, according to Lecog the vehicle of the spread of the f form was still Median which, according to Skjerve’s hypothesis, which he challenges, also contained it. There is nothing new about the tendency to attribute profound changes in the culture and also in the religious life of ancient Iran to the short-lived Scythian domination!®, but in the absence of evidence which is less scanty and vague than that available at present it should, I think, be treated with the greatest caution. With regard to point b) the Achaemenian period seems to contradict Lecoq’s reconstruction completely. Iranian onomastics was quite famillar with farnah- and x’aranah- and their derivatives both before and after the 6th-4th century B.C. Skjerve’s relevant remarks on the importance of the substantial absence of farnah- in Achaemenian inscriptions therefore remain valid 7. As for point c) nothing tells us that xwarrah was not derived from an Avestan word in Pahlavi and in the Middle Persian of the Sassanian inscriptions. The confidence with which Lecoq (see above) rejects this hypothesis does not seem to be justified and Skjervo had already, although quite hypothetically, admitted such a possibility: ‘Si xwarrah

OLD PERSIAN FARNAH

87

n'est pas un emprunt à l’avestique, on peut expliquer xwarrah et farrox …” (1983: 256). In my contribution to the Festschrift for G. Lazard I set out precisely to show the acceptability of such an hypothesis: xwarrah (GDE) in the Sassanian inscriptions and the Pahlavi of the Zoroastrian books can be explained as a word belonging to an erudite, but not artificial language, a religious technical term, more typical of pärsi than of dari, according to the definition of these two forms of Middle Persian given by G. Lazard (1971) in his penetrating analysis of the witness borne by Ibn al-Mugaffa‘ to the languages of Iran. A wide range of arguments can be produced in support of this hypothesis: the Erän-xwarrah or xwarrah of Erangahr, the adjective xwarrahömand in the opening formulas of numerous Pahlavi texts, etc., all seem to be taken from Avestan and to be typical elements, particular the former, of the political and religious propaganda of the early Sassanians'®. In its historical evolution Persian would thus always have had farnah- > farrah > farre/farr!®: ManMP farrah should be viewed as a possible instance of the dari word, i.e. of the language spoken also at the Sassanian court?°. While farnah- was believed to be a loanword from another language, it should now be considered that the loanword in Persian was xwarrah. It is no coincidence that the NP xorra, i.e. the

continuation of Pahl. xwarrah, found partially in a toponomastics of Sassanian origin?! and, in any case, infrequently documented, can be considered as linguistically unproductive compared with NP farr??. I believe, therefore, that a different historical explanation from the one given by Lecog (and partly from the one given by Skjærva?*) must be found for the spread of farnah-/x*arnah from the Achaemenians to the Sassanians. Such an explanation is to be sought in the historical development of the regal ideology and the power conceptions of the Persian monarchy: while in the Achaemenian milieu, which was strongly influenced by Mesopotamian and Near Eastern conceptions, farnah-, a pan-Iranian legacy associated with an archaic and essentially tribal ideology, played a secondary role?*, compared with the central idea of the x$aça- delivered to the xsäyadya- by the vasna- of the supreme God (Gnoli 1974: 163 ff.), in the Sassanian conception, which was deliberately founded on the er and mazdesn tradition?°, xwarrah is

present as the echo of a religious idea which had Avesta as its source. The political-religious propaganda of the Sassanians was aimed at legitimating the new dynasty by linking it to a semi-mythical past characterized by a confused and tangled mingling of Kayanids and Achaemenians?°, probably reflected in the reference to the ancestors

88

GHERARDO GNOLI

(ahenagän) contained in the great inscription of Säbuhr on the Ka‘ba-ye ZardoSt?’. In such an ideological and cultural framework the idea of the xwarrah of the Aryans and Kayanids naturally received pride of place, as an attribute of regality?$. It can be added in conclusion to this brief note that, as far as farnah-/ x’arnah- is concerned, the spread of forms with initial f, from OP farnah- to MP farr?° in proper names, to Manichaean farrah and to all the other forms found in different languages, from Sogdian to Bactrian, to Khotanese, to Ossetic, etc. ?°, is virtually a pan-Iranian phenomenon. In order to explain it, Skjerve abandoned the customary method of seeking a specific linguistic environment charaterized by the hv>f change and turned to the dissimilation mechanism. Lecoq, on the other hand, having given up the Median hypothesis, attempted to replace it with a similar one—the Scythian. I have endeavoured to show the good reasons why the first of these two hypotheses is to be preferred. It allows us to consider farnah- not as a loanword but as a word belonging to the Old Persian vocabulary in its own right?!. However, Lecoq also deserves the merit of having constructed an ingenious and stimulating hypothesis which has contributed to shedding light on the intrinsic weakness of the Median explanation.

NOTES ! For which see, among 1931: 72-76; Meillet Hoffmann 1958: 4;

others:

Lentz

1926: 288; Schaeder

1930: 270; Benveniste

and Benveniste 1931: §104; Herzfeld 1938: 192; Kent 1953: 9: Brandenstein and Mayrhofer 1964: 13; Gershevitch 1964: 28;

Mayrhofer 1968: 5, 20; Eilers 1972: 384; Hinz 1975: 94f.; Windfuhr 1975: 458; Schmitt 1978: 45 ff.; Rossi 1981: 174f.: Schmitt 1984: 195f. 2 It should be borne in mind that the alleged derivation of several west Iranian dialects from ancient Median is anything but certain. This is true of the Kurdish dialects (cf. Minorsky 1940; but see also MacKenzie 1961: 741), of Tati (cf. Yarshater 1969), of Talishi and of the ‘Central’ dialects (cf. Skjerve 1983a: 250f.). It is no coincidence that Windfuhr (1975: 458) noted, precisely on the strength of the ‘single peculiarly Median feature we know of, namely the change of *hv > f”, that such a definition can have only geographic, and not linguistic, meaning. The same was done by Lecoq (1983: 142) and Skjerve (1983a: 251). With regard to Kuri and Sivandi (cf. Morgenstierne 1958: 170 f.) which, quite independently, display the change of hv> f, this is probably a recent phenomenon (Skjerve 1983a: 249f; Lecoq 1987: 674) and does not date back to the ‘Median’. A different opinion is however held by Lentz (1926: 288), Benveniste (1931: 74), Mayrhofer (1968: 5 and n. 19) and Windfuhr (1975: 469 f.) 3 Gignoux has described how the spread of the farr form in Sassanian onomastics could cast some doubt on the equivalence of the GDE ideogram with x’arrah. I have endeavoured to show (in press) how this equivalence should be maintained, although

Gignoux’s observations have in any case contributed to setting the problem of epigraphic MP xwarrah in a new context.

OLD PERSIAN FARNAH

89

* Name of an Iranian princess in Herodotus, which Lecog claims can be explained as *x'aitu-mant or *x*aitu-manis, while Schmitt (1967: 136 n. 138) explains the initial in terms of influence from the Gr. @atdipoc ‘brilliant’. ° Proper noun used to refer to several personalities from Georgia and Armenia, rulers of Iberia, satraps of Chorasmia (Justi 1895: 91). Its connection with the name of Khwarezm (Markwart 1931: 97 n.1) can by no means be taken for granted. For bibliographical references on this topic see Gnoli 1980: 101 n. 62. On Poräsmän Lord of Mugan of the Paikuli inscription of Narseh see Skjerve 1983b: 72, 73; 1983c: 128, and Gignoux 1986: 88 no. 385 (Fursaman). ° Proper noun dubitatively explained by Lecoq as *x’aita-näk ‘autonomous’. 7 Proper noun dubitatively explained by Lecoq as *x'ara-ka ‘autonom’ ‘ou mieux X'atava-ka-, attesté à l’époque sassanide: HWTWKY (Gignoux p. 185), en parthe HWTWK, et qui rappelle les nombreux noms du type xwatdw, xwadäy, etc. 8 Explained hypothetically by Lecoq as *xtasa-ka ‘sweet’ and likened to epigraphic MP xwasag (Gignoux 1986: 189 no. 1043). ° Explained by Lecoq as the name of the sun, x’ar-, present in Sassanian onomastics (Gignoux

1986: 187 no. 1029).

19 Explained by Lecoq as ‘soleil des Aryens’; an explanation, to my mind, that is as unlikely as the modern äryämehr is fictitious. 11 Very dubitatively explained by Lecogq as ‘soleil vivant’. In this case the second part would have a jiva- (Abaev 1979: 288). Cf. also the variant DapCatoc. 12 Name of a city: the less uncertain case. The etymology proposed by Lecog (see below) is probably correct. 13 See Vs. Miller, G. Morgenstierne,

E. Benveniste,

V.I. Abaev, all cited by Lecoq

(1987: 681 notes 64-67), who rejects the hypothesis of the assimilation x"afna- > *fafna> fun, held by Benveniste (1959: 20). 14 The conception of x’arnah- /farnah- is centered on an idea of victorious force which allows those who possess it, especially the heroic figures of national and religious tradition (cf. in particular Yr. 19), to perform their mission. After the refutation of Bailey’s hypothesis

(1943:

1-77; and

see also

1971:

xvi-xxix)

by Duchesne-Guillemin

(1963),

several aspects of the conception of x’arnah-/farnah- are contained in Gnoli 1984, to which the reader is referred also for the bibliographical references. In any case, the topic deserves further investigation. A review of the issue is contained also in Jacobs 1987. 15 For which see notes 4 and 5 above. 16 See the hypothesis of Gershevitch (1975: 84) on the spread of ‘solar’ Mithra discussed by myself (1979: 731 ff.). : 17 An absence already pointed out, among others, by myself (1974: 171 ff.) and by Duchesne-Guillemin (1979: 383). 18 For these arguments the reader is referred to previous discussions (Gnoli 1987a; 1987b) and to an essay on the formation of the idea of Iran (1989: 129 ff).

19 This could lead us to consider Pharnacotis in Pliny (Hist. nat. 6.94) as a ‘Persianized’ form of the name X¥aranahuuaiti given in Yt. 19.67 to a river in the Hamun-e Helmand basin. On this subject see: Tomaschek 1883: 213; Markwart 1983: 23; MonchiZadeh 1975: 120; Gnoli 1980: 28 and n. 43 (with other bibliographical references). 20 As Henning (1958: 97) has rightly pointed out, Manichaean Middle Persian, in which Mani wrote the Sabuhragan, could only be the language of the royal household.

21 This is true for Ardasir-Xwarrah, Kawäd-Xwarrah, Eran-xwarrah-Sabuhr and Eranxwarrah- Yazdgird. For the bibliographic references see my article (in press). 22 Suffice it to refer to Dehxoda (1963, 1965, 1970) in which sufficient data have been collected. 23 It is more than likely, as Skjerve (1983a: 257) claims, that farnah- (and x'arnah)

spread under the influence of the Zoroastrian religion; indeed, it is even certain in the case of the Sassanian xwarrah. However,

that the absence of farnah from the Achaemenian

90

GHERARDO GNOLI

inscriptions is ‘un argument supplémentaire à la thèse selon laquelle les rois achéménides (du moins les premiers d’entre eux) ne professaient pas cette religion’ (ibid.) seems to me to be incorrect. Among other things, there is good reason to believe that the conception of farnah, although secondary, was not completely absent in Achaemenian ideology (see

below). # 24 For the Achaemenian farnah-, beside possible aspects related to the iconographic problem, for which no conclusive evidence is available, cf. Lecoq 1984 and note 26 and my remarks (1974: 170 ff; 1989: 150 n. 26). 25 See the works cited in note 18 and also Gnoli, 1986.

26 See the excellent contributions by Professor Yarshater on the Achaemenians and Sassanians (1971) and on Iranian national history in volume III of Cambridge History of Iran (1983).

27 SKZ 16 (Parthian text) and 36 (Greek text), containing the sequence Sabuhr, the father, the forefathers and the ancestors, which I discussed on 23 November 1988 during the Franco-Soviet colloquium on religions and cults in Central Asia held in Paris. 28 Skjærvo (1983a: 252) correctly refers to the xwarrah (GDE) of the Paikuli inscription and the fact that it is associated with Sahr, gah and dedem (Skjerve 1983b: 94), as well as the xwarrah of the Pahlavi texts as, in particular, in the Karnamag i Ardasir. 29 See the various forms collected by Gignoux 1986: 80ff., in addition to the name Farrbay and its compounds and that formed by the adjective farrox and its compounds. Other instances of compound forms of all these names are easy to find in the reverse index (ibid.: 207-18). 30 For evidence of the forms with the hv > f change in the various Iranian languages see: Bailey 1943: 52 ff.; Skjerve 1983: 252ff.; Lecoq 1987: 676. 3! This could be inferred, as well as from the onomastics, also from the recent explanation of the New Persian phrase farr o owrang, Old Persian farnah uta abifarnanagam, proposed by Gershevitch (1985) in his contribution in honour of Professor Mary Boyce.

BIBLIOGRAPHIE Abaev, V.I. (1979). “Skifo-sarmatskie narecija”. Osnovy iranskogo jazykoznanija. Drevneiranskie jazyki, pp. 272-364. Moskva. Bailey, H.W. (1943). Zoroastrian Problems in the Ninth-Century Books. Oxford (2nd ed. 1971). Bailey, H.W. (1971). Introduction to the 2nd ed. of Bailey 1943. Oxford. Benveniste, E. (1931). “Persica 2”. BSL 31, pp. 63-79. Benveniste, E. (1959) Études sur la langue ossete. Paris.

Brandenstein, W. and M. Mayrhofer (1964). Handbuch des Altpersischen. Wiesbaden. x Dehxoda, “A.A. (1963, 1965, 1970). Logat-name, Fasc. 79 s.v. farr; Fasc. 111 s.v. farra; Fasc. 167 s.v. xorra. Tehran. Duchesne-Guillemin, J. (1963). “Le ‘x’aranah’”. AJON-L 5, pp. 19-31. Duchesne-Guillemin, J. (1979). “La Royauté iranienne et le x"aranah’’. Iranica, ed. by G. Gnoli and A.V. Rossi, pp. 375-86. Napoli. Eilers, W. (1972). Review of Mayrhofer 1968. ZDMG 122, pp. 383-85. Gershevitch, I. (1964). “Dialect Variation in Early Persian”. TPAS, pp. 1-29 (= Id., Philologia Iranica, ed. by N. Sims-Williams, pp. 194-222. Wiesbaden 1985).

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Gershevitch, I. (1975). “Die Sonne das Beste”. Mithraic Studies. Proceedings of the First International Congress of Mithraic Studies, ed. by J.R. Hinnells, 2 vols, 1, pp. 68-89. Manchester. Gershevitch, I. (1985). “Farr u aurang”. Papers in Honour of Professor Mary Boyce, I. Acta Iranica 24, pp. 191-94. Leiden. Gignoux, Ph. (1986). Noms propres sassanides en moyen-perse épigraphique. Iranisches Personennamenbuch Il, 2. Wien. Gnoli, G. (1974). ‘Politique religieuse et conception de la royauté sous les Achéménides”. Hommage Universel, II, Acta Iranica 2, pp. 117-90. Téhéran-Liège. Gnoli, G. (1979). “Sol Persice Mithra”. Mysteria Mithrae. Proceedings of the International Seminar ... Rome and Ostia 28-31 March 1978, ed. by U. Bianchi, pp. 725-40. Leiden-Roma. Gnoli, G. (1980). Zoroaster’s Time and Homeland. Naples. Gnoli, G. (1984). “Note sullo ‘XYaranah’”. Orientalia J. Duchesne-Guillemin emerito oblata. Acta Iranica 23, pp. 207-18. Leiden. Gnoli, G. (1986). “Mittelpersisch er ‘Iranier’”. Studia Grammatica Iranica. Festschrift für Helmut Humbach, ed. by R. Schmitt and P.O. Skjærvo, pp. 115-24. München. Gnoli, G. (1987a). “Er mazdesn. Zum Begriff Iran und seiner Entstehung im 3. Jahrhundert”. Transition Periods in Iranian History. Actes du Symposium de Fribourg-en-Brisgau (22-24 Mai 1985) ed. by Ph. Gignoux. Cahiers de Studia Iranica, 5, pp. 83-100. Paris. Gnoli, G. (1987b). “Baoıevg Bacıkewog Apıavag”. Orientalia Tosephi Tucci memoriae dicata. Serie Orientale Roma LVI/2, pp. 509-32. Roma. Gnoli, G. (1989). The Idea of Iran. Serie Orientale Roma LXII. Rome. Gnoli, G. (in press). “Un cas possible de différenciation lexicale entre dari et parsi’’. Etudes irano-aryennes offertes à Gilbert Lazard, Paris. Harmatta, J. (1950-52). “Studies in the language of the Iranian Tribes in South

Russia”. AOH 1, pp. 261-314. Henning, W.B. (1958). “‘Mitteliranisch”. /ranistik: Linguistik. Handbuch der Orientalistik I, IV/1, pp. 20-130. Leiden-Köln. Herzfeld, E. (1938). Altpersische Inschriften. Berlin. Hinz, W. (1975). Altiranisches Sprachgut der Nebeniiberlieferungen. Wiesbaden. Hoffmann, K. (1958). “Altiranisch”. /ranistik: Linguistik. Handbuch der Orientalistik 1, IV/1, pp. 1-19. Jacobs, B. (1987). “Das Chvarnah—Zum Stand der Forschung”. MDOG 119, pp. 215-48. | Justi, F. (1895). Zranisches Namenbuch. Marburg. (Repr. Hildesheim 1963). Kent, R.G. (1953). Old Persian. Grammar, Lexicon, Texts. 2nd ed. New Haven. Lazard, G. (1971) “Pahlavi, Parsi, Dari. Les langues de I’Iran d’après Ibn alMugaffa°”, Iran and Islam, in Memory of the Late Vladimir Minorsky, ed. by C.E. Bosworth, pp. 361-91. Edinburgh. Lecog, P. (1983). ‘“‘Excursus: à propos du f ‘mede’”. Kunst, Kultur und Geschichte der Achämenidenzeit und ihr Fortleben. AMI Ergänzungsband 10, pp. 141-43. Berlin.

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Lecoq, P. (1984). “Un problème de religion achemenide: Ahura Mazda ou X'arnah?”. Orientalia J. Duchesne-Guillemin emerito oblata. Acta Iranica 23, pp. 301-26. Leiden. Lecogq, P. (1987. ‘Le mot farnah et les Scythes”. CRAI, pp. 671-81. Lentz, W. (1926). “Die nordarischen Elemente.in der neupersischen Literatursprache”. ZI] 4, pp. 251-316. MacKenzie, D.N. (1961). ‘The Origins of Kurdish”. TPhS, pp. 68-86. Markwart, J. (1931). “Iberer und Hyrkanier. Mit einem Excurs: Li-kan”. Caucasica 8, pp. 78-113. Markwart, J. (1938). Wehrot und Arang, ed. by H.H. Schaeder. Leiden. Mayrhofer, M. (1968). Die Rekonstruktion des Medischen. Graz-Wien-Köln. Mayrhofer, M. (1977). Die avestischen Namen. Iranisches Personennamenbuch I, 1. Wien. Meillet, A. and E. Benveniste (1931). Grammaire du vieux-perse. 2nd ed. Paris. Minorsky, V. (1940). ‘Les origines des Kurdes”. Actes du XX° Congrès International des Orientalistes, pp. 143-52. Louvain. Monchi-Zadeh, D. (1975). Topographisch-historische Studien zum iranischen Nationalepos. ADMG S LI, 2, Wiesbaden. Morgenstierne, G. (1958). ‘‘Neu-iranische Sprachen”. /ranistik: Linguistik. Handbuch der Orientalistik. I, IV/1, pp. 155-78. Leiden-Köln.

Rossi, A.V. (1981). ‘La varieta linguistica nell’Iran achemenide”. A/ N. Annali del Seminario di Studi del Mondo Classico, Sez. Linguistica 3, pp. 141-96. Schaeder, H.H. (1930). /ranische Beiträge, I. Königsberg. Schmitt, R. (1967). ‘‘Medisches und persisches Sprachgut bei Herodot”. ZDMG 117, pp. 119-45. Schmitt, R. (1978). Die Iranier-Namen bei Aischylos. Österreichische Ak. d. Wiss., phil.-hist. Kl., Sb., 337. BD. Wien. Schmitt, R. (1984). “Zur Ermittlung von Dialekten

Sprachwissenschaft 9, pp. 183-207.

in altiranischer

Zeit”.

;

Skjervo, P.O. (1983a). “Farnah-: mot mede en vieux-perse?”. BSL 78, pp. 24159. Skjervo, P.O. (1983b). In: H. Humbach and P.O. Skjerve, The Sassanian Inscription of Paikuli. Part 3.1.: Restored Text and Translation. Wiesbaden. Skjerve, P.O. (1983c). In: H. Humbach and P.O. Skjærvo, The Sassanian Inscription of Paikuli. Part 3.2: Commentary. Wiesbaden. Tomaschek, W. (1883). “Zur historischen Topographie von Persien, I: Die Strassenzüge der Tabula Peutingeriana”. SWAW 102, pp. 145-231. Vasmer, M. (1923). Die Iranier in Südrussland. Leipzig. Windfuhr, G.L. (1975). “Isoglosses. A Sketch on Persians and Parthians, Kurds and Medes”. Monumentum H.S. Nyberg, II, Acta Iranica 5. pp. 457-72. Téhéran-Liège. Yarshater, E. (1969). A Grammar of Southern Tati Dialects. The Hague-Paris. Yarshater, E. (1971). “Were the Sasanians heirs to the Achaemenids?”. La Persia nel Medioevo. Atti del Convegno... Roma 31 marzo-5 aprile 1970, Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei, pp. 517-31. Roma. Yarshater, E. (1983). “Iranian National History”. The Cambridge History of Iran 3/1, ed. by E. Yarshater, pp. 359-477. Cambridge.

WILLIAM

HANAWAY

ALEXANDER AND THE QUESTION OF IRANIAN IDENTITY Persian narratives of Alexander the Great, both courtly and popular, have interested me ever since I was a graduate student working with Professor Yarshater. Even then I think I sensed in them something more than just good stories, something that revealed an aspect of how Iranians thought about the world, and about themselves. Since the Iranian view of the world has long interested Professor Yarshater, and the conquests of Alexander the Great had a profound influence on the Iranian world-view, I thought that the present article might be of interest to him. I am pleased to offer it to my former teacher. The story of Alexander the Great, as it comes to us in Persian literature, is in the form of a legend. By a legend in this sense I mean the collection of plausible and fanciful stories that has coalesced over the centuries around the life of a historical individual. Alexander is a particularly strong magnet for such accretions, but he is not the only historical figure in Iranian or Persian culture about whom tales have developed. Another example would be Ferdowsi. The fame of Alexander the Great is international and legends about him have grown up in many eastern and western cultures, whereas Ferdowsi is a national figure,

known

well

to Iranians

but

not

well

to others.

How

these

legends developed is not at issue here, but I believe that the study of such legends can reveal something of the Iranian world-view at different times in the past, and that this view of the world can be a means of exploring the subject of Iranian identity. Iranian identity derives in large measure from the past. It feeds on the past while at the same time reshaping it. Among Iranians, the past is one of the most powerful elements working to form the idea of self, individual and collective. It exists as a cluster of attitudes, but also as a set of tangible survivals that relate to the present in various ways. These relationships are constantly redefined within a relatively stable set of tacitly accepted definitions and paradigms. The past is not an unchanging monolith. As the needs of succeeding generations change, the past is reinterpreted (or reconstructed) in accordance with the concerns of the present. As present demands

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require the reconstruction of parts of the past, so they also require ignoring other parts of it. Thus the present and the past are always in a dynamic relationship. This suggests that identity depends, in part, on a continuing process of reinterpreting the past, which means that identity itself is not stable, but is continuously evolving. It must evolve however, within a fairly stable set of frameworks. These frameworks are controlling ideas or paradigms in Pérsian culture, such as kingship or martyrdom, that provide necessary continuity and keep the reinterpretation of the past within acceptable limits. This dynamic tension of vitality within overall stability helps produce the changing sense of identity that is expressed today, for example, in generational conflicts. For the literary scholar, the survivals from the past that are of the most interest are written texts. Texts are written in language, and language is thus the link between past and present. The literary past is available by virtue of language, but language is an ever-changing medium.

On the one hand, in the case of Persian, this elusiveness of

language prevents the literary past from being equally available to all Iranians. On the other hand, the literary past lies at the heart of what many Iranians consider their culture. This raises a crucial question, namely:

when

talking

of Iranians,

whose

past

do

we

mean,

and

therefore, whose identity? In this case the identity is of two principal groups: the literate and educated, and the illiterate and uneducated. The former find the literary past easily available, but the latter may not have direct access to it and therefore must have it interpreted for them by the educated. This need gives a certain power to the educated class, power over the literary past and also over the illiterate for whom they mediate it. Among the educated there can also be competition for the interpretation, and thereby the control, of the past. In contrast, there are parts of the unwritten past that are shared by both groups. Examples of the reinterpretation of the Persian literary past are not difficult to find. The legends that have grown up around the lives and accomplishments of Alexander the Great and Ferdowsi can be taken as typical. Each is a historical figure who has become a metaphor in Iranıan culture for certain concepts and values: among others, political power and moral authority. Of all the historical kings in the Iranian past, Alexander achieved probably the greatest political power. As a non-Iranian he stands as a kind of Other, the constant presence that is essential to the definition of the individual and collective self. In contrast, Ferdowsi embodies moral authority. With other legendary and literary figures such as Siyävosh, the Imäm Hoseyn, Däsh Akol

ALEXANDER

AND

IRANIAN

IDENTITY

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in Hedäyat’s story of that name, and Takhti, he fits into a paradigm that focuses a deep strain of Iranian thought about the self. These are personages in Iranian culture who have achieved a position of moral authority by virtue of a harmony of their inner and outer selves, while

at the same time they have remained uncorrupted by material values and worldly status. In all cases, they are considered to have been martyred, and their martyrdom has affirmed their moral stature. It has proved them right and justified their behavior during their lifetimes. Political power is expressed externally, while moral authority is an inner quality. Ferdowsi, the quintessential Iranian, expresses symbolically this inner quality, as opposed to the outward, worldly power of Alexander. These concepts and values are central to the way in which Iranians view the world and themselves. The study of these values as they are embodied in legends could illuminate for us larger questions about Iranian identity. Alexander conquered a large part of the world, achieving a political power scarcely rivalled until modern times. He became, for the medieval Iranians at least, the greatest of all kings. He also became the model of the ideal king, and this is what is interesting because kingship, in its theoretical as well as its practical sense, is one of the important concepts that determine how Iranians understand the world. Before modern times the Iranians had little accurate historical information about either Ferdowsi or Alexander. The knowledge of Alexander possessed by the Sasanians and the Iranians of the Islamic period came almost entirely from a “romance” of Alexander. The classical and other historical sources for the career of Alexander were not known to the Iranians until very late, so that we can say that for all intents and purposes Alexander became for the Iranians at least a semi-fictional character. We do know a good deal about Alexander today, but this socalled “historical” or “scientific” knowledge is less useful to us in the exploration of Iranian identitiy than is legendary knowledge, if we are trying to discover what the Macedonian conqueror meant to Iranians as they reinterpreted the past in order to meet their present needs, and thereby attempt to shape the future. What is the image of Alexander that Iranians created, and why, and from this, what can we learn about

Iranian identity? A second-century A.D. Greek author, probably Alexandrian, wrote a

fictional life of Alexander.

This person later came

to be known

as

Pseudo-Callisthenes, after the historian Callisthenes who accompanied Alexander on his campaigns. This “biography” was translated into

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numerous other languages in the Levant, Asia, and Europe, each translation producing a local variant of the basic narrative. The story reached Persia through a translation into western Middle Iranian, whence it went into New Persian. This Iranian version of the PseudoCallisthenes Alexander ‘‘romance” is the basis of all the accounts of Alexander (except those from the Zoroastrian tradition) that appear in Persian literature and history until the nineteenth or twentieth century. Courtly and popular versions of the story exist in Persian, and one of the courtly versions will be the focus of this article. In courtly literature the story of Alexander is presented in three contexts. Some versions may be embedded in a larger, chronological narrative in verse, such as Shähnäma,

or in prose, such as Tärikh-e

Bal‘ami, where its meaning is shaped by the historian’s perspective. In these versions Alexander is a king among other kings; a world-conqueror to be sure, but a king whose importance diminishes somewhat when his story is set in the midst of a succession of forty-nine other kings from the beginning of the world until the conquest of Iran by the Arabs in the 7th century. Other versions are separate accounts in narrative poetry, often forming part of a set of verse narratives considered as a whole (e.g., the khamsas of Nezämi and Amir Khosrow). In this context the story of Alexander has no relation to the other stories in the khamsa. No larger historical context surrounds it, and from our point of view, it has been

treated by the writer as a story, not as “history.” Finally, Alexander appears as an emblematic figure whose life need not be narrated in full. In these versions, only fragments of Alexander’s life are presented, carefully chosen to make a moral point that is then elaborated by the author. The differences among these types are of some significance. In a story, for example, we expect to find characteristics of narrative fiction such as a beginning, middle, and ending; a plot that relates all of the “facts” in a coherent fashion; and credible motivation

for the action.

We do not demand that the events of the story be presented in precisely the same order that they occurred. We are also ready to accept novel or fantastic events as long as they are felt to be a proper part of the fictional world created by the author. Finally, we expect a story to be a unity, an aesthetically satisfying whole that can stand by itself as a work of art. In a history, we also expect a narrative, but not necessarily a plot. The narrative should be a reconstruction of the past based on accurate

ALEXANDER AND IRANIAN IDENTITY

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information, presented by the historian in the order occurred. We also expect some statement about which this history is based, or about its sources. This is a general and oversimplified statement of history and fiction today. But how would Iranians think about history and fiction? I believe that they ered the Shähnäma as history, in the same way Beyhaqi and Joveyni were thought of as history.

in which the events the authorities on

How, then, do the Alexander stories of Nezämi

how we might view of the 15th century would have considthat the works of and Amir Khosrow

relate to those of Ferdowsi or Bal’ami? They are all about an actual, historical figure. Ferdowsi invokes old books and learned men as authorities

and sources,

but so do Nezämi

and Amir

Khosrow.

The

latter describe fantastic as well as realistic events. Ferdowsi does the same thing. In their status as history, then, how did the story of Alexander by Ferdowsi differ from those of Nezami and Amir Khosrow? I am not sure that they did. I believe that both sorts or writing were thought of as “history,” and that the cultural models for narrating the events of the past were shared equally between what we today would call “history” and “fiction.” In each case the historical “facts” have been narrativized, but in different genres, and therefore to serve different purposes. In Ferdowsi’s account, the facts of Alexander’s career take on meaning by virtue of being surrounded by a more extensive historical narrative. Alexander’s life is shown to be part of the working out of a larger plan for the history of the Iranians and the world as seen from within Islamic Iranian culture. As a story, the narrative of Alexander’s life gains its meaning not so much from the effect that the course of his life had on the world in his time and later, but from the picture it shows us of Alexander as a king. He is presented as the model of what Iranians thought all kings should be like. The difference between Ferdowsi’s account and those of Nezami and Amir Khosrow reflects not only the difference between “history” and “fiction,” but also between epic and lyric poetry: the epic tends to focus on action and speak directly, while lyric poetry tends to foreground language and speak metaphorically. Each serves different ends and complements the other in transmitting a culture’s values. The large independent verse narratives of Alexander began with Nezami, whose model was imitated by Amir Khosrow, Badr al-din alKashmiri with his Eskandar-nama and ‘Abdi Beg Shirazi with his A ‘ineye eskandari, both of the late sixteenth century, and no doubt others

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too. Jami’s Kherad-näma-ye eskandari', which I will discuss in more detail below, is of a different sort. If we place it in the large category of ethical works, of which the genre called Mirrors for Princes is a subcategory, generic expectations should alert us to consider aspects of it that otherwise might be overlooked. | Jami’s Alexander story begins in a familiar fashion, with prayers, an account of the Prophet Mohammad’s me ràj, prayers for the well-being of Jami’s patrons and certain important Naqshbandi Sufis, advice to his son, and praise of discourse and eloquence. The main body of the text comprises short narratives of Alexander alternating with kheradnamas (letters containing moral and ethical advice) from Greek philosophers, and illustrative anecdotes. At the end comes a series of laments for Alexander’s death. The text is not a continuous narrative of Alexander’s

life, as it is in the cases

of Nezami

and Amir

Khosrow.

Jami provides a short summary of Alexander’s career in two or three pages, and then brief sections relating certain of the conqueror’s experiences from which the reader is expected to draw moral and ethical lessons. Only about one quarter to one third of the work directly concerns Alexander; the rest is letters, anecdotes, and laments through

which Jami presents and reiterates the main ideas of the book. In terms of a full narrative, Jami’s Alexander story lies at one end of a continuum,

Alexander

at the

other

in Shähnäma.

end

of which

Ferdowsi

is Ferdowsi’s

retells Alexander’s

account

of

life with little

embellishment and a minimum of moralizing. In our terms, his account

is the most “historical.” Nezami’s and Amir Khosrow’s Alexander stories are also full-scale accounts of the great king’s life, with some emphasis on his moral development. Jami’s, at the far end of the scale, has essentially no narrative content other than short, exemplary tales which are incidents in Alexander’s career that allow Jami to highlight his philosophical messages. Here Jami seems to be less interested in storytelling than in writing a sort of mirror for princes that would express his own concerns about the larger questions of monarchy, and also some of the ideas about it that were current among thinkers contemporary with him. With this almost anti-narrative approach Alexander becomes an emblem, held up by Jami to display the moral concerns of his age regarding kingship, but also regarding the life of everyman. While Ferdowsi was more concerned with what had happened, Jami concentrated

corresponds, poetry.

on what could or should be. This difference

as it happens,

to Aristotle’s definitions of history and

ALEXANDER AND IRANIAN IDENTITY

99

With regard to the main themes of the book, Jämi focuses on wisdom, power, detachment from the world, and the integration of the individual through a harmony of his inner and outer selves. These qualities may seem incompatible when stated in this manner, but Jämi is able to show how they must all be present in the makeup of a ruler, and how they were best exemplified in the person of Alexander. Jämi does not make a connected argument, however. I have pieced together my conclusions from widely scattered bits of narrative and commentary. The procedure will not be unfamiliar to anyone who has studied such texts. The focal point of Jami’s discussion is wisdom, as he makes clear in the title of the work. The fact of kingship is taken for granted: there have always been kings and there always should be. Alexander, who like all legitimate Iranian kings, possesses the farr, says in his throne speech: You have no choice but to have a king: all give and take is at his command’. Jami praises wisdom as inherently good. It is especially important for rulers to be wise, for from wisdom proceeds justice. Furthermore, only the wise understand that since in the end we all must die, attachment to

the world during our lifetime is useless. Because we have known all our lives that we must die, it is vain to strive for that which will, in the end, only be taken away from us. Instead, we should weep for our own death, but not for that of others. The truly wise man also understands

that humans can only realize their full human potential if their outer

and inner selves are in harmony.

E

Here, then, lies the problem of political power and moral authority. The community requires a ruler in order for it to flourish. The ruler must exercise power for the good of the community, and be fully engaged with the world. A ruler lacking in wisdom will exercise his power in an unjust, selfish, and tyrannical way.and not for the benefit of his people. Jami says that justice derives only from wisdom, and since the ruler should be just, he must therefore be wise. In order to rule

effectively the ruler must embody moral authority as well as political power. But moral authority must be actualized; it cannot exist only as a set of principles. Moral authority in Iranian culture is not associated with worldliness however, but just the opposite: freedom from corrupting ties to the material world. Moral authority and political power, then, seem incompatible, at opposite ends of a scale that measures how

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people lead their lives. In the case of kings, however, this is not necessarily true. The wise ruler must actualize his moral authority by exercising it for the good of the community and not simply for personal gain. This can only be done if his inner, true self is in harmony with his outer, visible self. This harmony is best achieved by detachment from the world. Riches, status, material display, boastfulness and pride are characteristic of the person whose outer self dominates his inner and who is, in fact, hollow and empty.

There is, in this context, a dynamic relationship between political power and moral authority. Power must not be exercised selfishly or unjustly but must be harnessed and channeled into the service of the community. Moral authority can only be made actual by opportunities to exercise it in the world. This can be done only if the king’s outer and inner selves are in harmony. Wisdom makes all this possible. Needless to say, most of these ideas are not original with Jami. Some are familiar from earlier Sufi writings, and some were current in his time, as I will show presently. Jami’s contribution was to bring these ideas together in a form of a mirror for princes, using Alexander as the ideal example. I will not attempt to trace the source of Jami’s ideas in past writers, but an example from a work contemporary with Jami can serve to show that he was in tune with his own times. Molla Hoseyn Va‘ez Käshefi (d. 1504-5) was a preacher and writer on moral and religious subjects. One of his works is the Fotovvat-nama-ye soltäni*, a book about fotovvat and javanmardi*. Kashefi’s book deals with a set of values that Iranians of all classes considered profoundly important, but which were more clearly articulated in popular culture than in courtly culture. Käshefi discusses many theoretical and practical aspects of fotovvat, and describes some of the professions in which these values are (or should be) prominently displayed. One such is the profession of wrestler. “If they ask what strength is,” writes Käshefi, “say that strength [by itself] has no credit, because there are animals that have great strength, but since they have no wisdom, they are accorded no respect. If they ask how learning and strength go together, say that there is nothing better. This is because wise men have said that strength without wisdom is like a king without justice, and wisdom without strength is like a just king without an army. When wisdom and strength are companions, affairs turn out as desired*.” This resembles in many ways what Jami says about the ıdeal king, and can be thought of as a metaphor for the inner and outer harmony of the human being.

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Jami conveys his messages in an interesting manner. I will say something about how the book is organized, and then give an example of Jami’s technique. With the exception of some traditional matter in the introductory section, Jami’s work is divided into twenty-seven units of uniform structure. The typical pattern is for the unit to begin with either a short narrative about Alexander called a dästän, usually containing a fairly obvious moral message, or with a kherad-nama by a Greek philosopher; this is followed by a brief anecdote (hekäyat) to illustrate, confirm, or comment on the preceding passage, and finally there is a four-line sägi-nama which also comments on the point in question. Then the cycle begins again. Each cycle is about seventy-five lines long. In three cases out of the twenty-seven, the Alexander story and the anecdote seem to be combined. The short narratives of Alexander in these cycles do not form a consecutive or connected account, but appear to have been chosen for their exemplary content. Jami acknowledges the narrative tradition of Ferdowsi, Nezami, and Amir Khosrow by beginning with Alexander’s birth, summarizing his career, and ending with his death, but the various short tales of Alexander seem to be randomly arranged. A typical cycle is the nineteenth in order, entitled “The story of Alexander reaching the land of India and meeting with their philosophers®.” In the previous anecdote Alexander had been with Aristotle in his academy in Greece. The journey to India is related in one line: “When

Alexander marched his army on India, he heard of the wisdom

of the Brahmans’.” The Brahmans decline to send an emissary to meet Alexander, and this infuriates him. He marches his army against them,

whereupon their envoys hasten to him, saying that they are only a group of ascetics who have nothing to do with war or peace. They declare that they possess no treasure save wisdom, and that the only way to gain that treasure is through searching, not through military conquest. Alexander heeds this advice and sets out with a few of his men to visit the Brahmans. He reaches their caves and engages them in a learned conversation. At the end of this talk, Alexander offers them anything in the world that they might want. They say that their only desire is for eternal life. He answers that he cannot give them this, and

their reply is, “If you understand this, why are you a slave to He says that he acts only on God’s command, not for himself, God has sent him to convert the people of the world to His The conqueror remarks on the perishability of the body eternity of the soul, which he declares is one’s real treasure.

desire?” and that religion. and the

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Next follows the hekäyat: “The story of the shipwrecked philosopher who lost all his goods but who was saved and rose to a high station through the exercise of his wisdom®.” Briefly, the story is as follows: The philosopher’s ship sinks, he loses all his goods, and he is cast up on a foreign shore. The local king, impressed by his wisdom, restores him to wealth and makes him his advisor. The philosopher writes an open letter to the world, advising the thoughtful to search only for that which cannot

be lost at sea; that which

is of greatest value and will

remain with one always°. The cycle ends with the sägi-näama which makes the same point again. The next cycle begins with Alexander somewhere in the world, discovering a utopia. Jami believes that we can learn from the past. Through Plato’s mouth he says “Think of our predecessors as guides, and make your heart glad in remembering them. Read the writings of the ancients and contemporaries and see how kings of every land have ridden the steed of kingship onto the field ...!°” This makes it clear that the past can provide lessons for the present. Jami did not believe that, in Frances FitzGerald’s words, “the past is no highway to the present; it is a collection of issues and events that do not fit together and that lead in no single direction!!.’’ Jami believes that the lessons from the past are eternal and unchanging. He often likens the wisdom of the past to jewels, which is an appropriate image since jewels are not only precious and beautiful, but everlasting. Today we do not always believe that the values inherited from the past are unchanging, or that they even make sense. We feel that we must create a past for ourselves out of a jumble of survivals; that history is a construct and that if there are lessons in it, we must find their meaning in a changed and changing world. Jami was typical of his time in believing that the past was an authoritative source of wisdom, but typical also in his willingness to reshape the past. More than other poets of the Alexander legend, Jami saw that legend as a setting for the gems of wisdom that he found in the past. One source of a poet’s authority is his mastery of the literary and cultural tradition. In this regard, Jami must speak authoritatively for his age. In his use of the past and the lessons that he draws from it, he makes a clear statement of some of the qualities that make up Iranian identity. Shortly after Jami’s death in 1492, the religious situation in Iran changed profoundly, and required that poets of the Safavid period and later view the past in quite different terms. The jewels of Jami’s past are reset, as he had reset them himself, but they retain their luster and value for Iranians as they read about their past and think about their present.

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NOTES ' Abd al-Rahmän Jami, Tohfat al-ahrär, Sobhat al-abrär, Kherad-näma-ye eskandari,

ed. Hoseyn Ahmad Tarbiyat (Moscow: Danesh, 1984), pp. 311-449. Citations will be by page and line. 25 Oprcit:, 3462907. 3 Molla Hoseyn Va‘ez Kashefi, Fotovvat-name-ye soltani, ed. Mohammad Ja'far Mahjub. Tehran: Bonyad-e Farhang-e Iran, 1350/1971. + For a recent discussion offotovvat and javanmardi, see Marina Gaillard, Le Livre de Samak-e ‘Ayyar: structure et idéologie du roman persan médiéval. Paris, 1987. (Travaux de l’Institut d’études iraniennes, 12). > Op. cit., p. 308. © Op. eit., pp. 405-408.

7 8 9 10

Ibid., 405: 1573 Ibid., pp. 408-409. Ibid., 409: 1636-1643. Ibid., 356: 740-742.

11 Frances FitzGerald, America Revised: History Schoolbooks in the Twentieth Century (Boston: Little, Brown, 1979), p. 11.

K.D. IRANI

|

UNDERSTANDING ZARATHUSHTRA A PHILOSOPHIC PERSPECTIVE For over a hundred years we have come to know the grammar and a very large part of the vacabulary of the Gathas, sometimes called the Old Avesta. These, and only these, verses are the works of Zarathushtra. The poetic phrases, metaphorical expressions, idioms of various kinds and obscure references make accurate translations difficult. Nonetheless, the basic religious themes, the principles in the doctrinal system, and the religious outlook of Zarathushtra’s vision are matters of general, if not universal, agreement.

However,

attempts to

place his religious vision in the context of the tradition of the Mazdayasni faith down the ages result in markedly different views. Similarly, consideration of his religious vision in the context of his times, that

is, in the belief systems

of the ancient

Indo-Iranians

and

the

sociopolitical environment of the late second millennium BCE generate an equally wide variety of views. In part, this disparity arises because Zarathushtra’s mission as he might have conceived it and his role as his followers perceived it have been viewed by scholars in many different ways. He has been taken to be a teacher, a prophet, a reformer, a ritual

priest composing prayers of offering, a poet-priest composing invocations, a social moralist, a religious innovator,

a shaman,

a mystic, a

theologian, a philosopher, or some combination thereof. Whatever else he may have been, Zarathushtra in the Gathas views himself as having a realization of a new religious vision through direct contact with Ahura-Mazda which he presents to humanity. It is the philosophic character of this religious vision that I intend to examine and explore its historical implications as I see them. * In order to identify the specific philosophic characteristics of Zarathushtra’s religious vision one must consider the various stages of religious consciousness and the various forms in which religious beliefs are articulated. One can identify three distinct stages of religious consciousness. The first, which we might call the Archaic, is a form in which the believer takes the world to be a mixture of material and nonmaterial entities and forces. One lives by avoiding visible as well as invisible danger, and by manipulating some aspects of the world by

UNDERSTANDING ZARATHUSHTRA

105

physical action and others by appropriate magic. A somewhat later version of this form of life relies on a specialist, a shaman, who has special ways of communicating with and influencing the invisible forces who are now quasi-personal. From this stage of religious consciousness one historically moves to the next, which we might call Ancient Organized Religion, wherein one makes a clear distinction between the natural world and the super-natural world. The natural world operates by natural laws, but the super-natural world is populated by one or more super-natural beings who can influence the natural world, and with whom we can establish a relationship. The way of doing this is within the purview of a special group, the organized clergy, who through preparation and appropriate ritual interact with the super-natural. Of course, what one wants from the divinities are the guarantees of security and welfare, and even success and happiness. The arrangement is usually quasi-contractual in that one is required, through the priests of course, to do appropriate things in order to receive from the divinities the desired boon. In many religions there emerges a third stage of religious consciousness, which we might call Reflective Religion. The believer here is dedicated to a religious vision which is a fusion of two major conceptions, they are, a view of the world, i.e., a metaphysics, on the one hand, and a way of life, i.e., an ethic, on the

other. The religious vision is a response to the basic religious demands in the human psyche; the answers to the questions: What is the point of my existence in the scheme of things? and What is the way to a responsible and meritorious existence? In all civilizations,

at all times,

all the

three

forms

of religious

consciousness appear, actualized differently in different individuals. And since most religions have an established clergy, that form of religion receives some degree of social re-inforcement. As I shall indicate in a moment, the vision of Zarathushtra is clearly of the third stage, i.e., of the form of reflective religion. But such religious visions can be expressed in different forms. We must particulary distinguish between i) historical form, ii) mythic form, and iii) philosophic form. For example, the religious vision of the Hebraic tradition is given in historical form as is clear in the Books of Genesis and Exodus; so also the teachings of Jesus in the Gospels. The vision of Hinduism in the Bhagavad-Gita is in mythic form. The vision of Zarathushtra is in philosophic form, as is that of the Buddha in his early sermons.-

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K.D. IRANI

It is not difficult to formulate the religious vision of Zarathushtra. It does not appear as a single discourse in Gathas, but every element of it is contained in some verse or other from which the account is construct-

ed. This is the account.

Ahura-Mazda

created the world; it has a

spiritual state and a material state. Creation was viewed as good, meant to unfold according to Asha, the Ultimate Truth, which is also the Right.

Creation

in the material

state, however,

is not

in a state of

perfection having been afflicted by the destructive acts of evil-doers and demonic forces all inspired by the Evil Spirit, the Spirit of Falsehood, which repudiates Asha. This Spirit, later called Angra-Mainyu, is in opposition to the Good-Spirit, Spenta-Mainyu which works to fulfill Asha. The history of existence can be seen to be the conflict between these two forces and attitudes towards the ultimate Truth. This is the view of the world. We now come to the way of life related to this view of the world. Human beings are endowed with the Good-Mind, VohuManah, itself a spiritual entity of Divine creation. It enables us to grasp Asha and recognize the imperfections of this flawed existence. Thus one can conceive of how the flawed state of things can be set right, i.e., in accordance with Asha. This is good thought. When formulated and announced in the form of an intention it is good word. Moved by the spirit of benevolence, Armaiti, one proceeds to act; that is good deed. This is the ethic. The form of society in which such goodness can best be realized is the society in which power is used in a holy way. This, the Ideal Dominion, is Khshathra-Vairya. When these ideal conceptions of Truth, Good-Mind, Benevolence, and Ideal Dominion find actualization, there one will find Well-being or Perfection, Haurvatat. And the

spirit of the individual who has lived in this way shall find immortal bliss, Ameretat.

These six abstract concepts, later called the Amesha-

Spentas, constitute the philosophic elements of Zarathushtra’s religious vision. From time to time the Amesha-Spentas are treated as persons. This is not a mythic account. One may call this a nominal myth, but not a narrative myth, for there are no stories or biographical elements which in any way enter into the theology. This then is a philosophical theology which Zarathushtra has received from communication with Ahura-Mazda. How does he offer it to his audience? He proclaims it to be the true description of the nature of things and asks his hearers to listen with care and choose to live by this way or not.

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107

For human beings choice cannot be avoided, neither the responsibility for the choice. And it is solely in terms of the moral character of one’s life that one is judged in after-life. The faith that one is asked to have is in a morally and materially perfectible world, and in a life of moral responsibility where final justification is entirely based on one’s moral choices. Such a faith, it seems to me, Zarathushtra

takes to be

rationally acceptable, as distinct from one which calls for a suprarational leap of commitment. If this was the theological position of Zarathushtra, how would he be related to the religious environment of his day and age? In the IndoIranian pantheon which prevailed in Zarathushtra’s time there existed a multiplicity of divinities, each representing a natural element or social aspect of the world, the system we find in the Hindu Vedas. Not only do these divinities disappear in the Gathas, it is pointed out that they do not have any function. In Yasna 44 Zarathushtra asks the Lord a series of rhetorical questions about who made the sun, the moon, the wind, etc., who set the earth and heavens in appropriate relation, who made the son respectful of the father, and so on. The audience who heard these verses must have realized that the well-known dieties had lost their function and their being. In two verses Zarathushtra repudiates the clergy for their ceremonies related probably to preparations for raids and warfare, the most significant rituals of his day. From this it appears that he was not a reformer of the earlier system, he repudiated it. He was a religious innovator. It was not just a replacement of one set of dieties with another, it was a transformation of religious consciousness. Zarathushtra’s teachings do not introduce elements of reflective religion. gradually into an ancient organized religious system, he preaches a total replacement. He initiated a revolution in religious consciousness. It is interesting to see how this new religious vision would survive as an organized religion. How would a religious vision in which the doctrine is formulated in philosophic form without mythology; where the fundamental religious act is to lead an active moral life; where salvation is dependent solely upon one’s moral worth, become an organized institution? What conceivable function could ritual have? The only ritual that Zarathushtra mentions is addressing hymns of praise to Ahura-Mazda. The only reference Zarathushtra makes to the idea of sacrifice or offering is the one in Yasna 33, verse 14, where he offers his own Hife, his deeds and words to Ahura-Mazda and the cause of Righteousness.

108

The

K.D. IRANI

established

religion of Zarathushtra,

the Mazdayasni

church,

remained faithful to the doctrine of the prophet, but gradually moved to the second stage of religious consciousness, the philosophical doctrine was not so much changed as mythologized with the necessary alteration that it entailed. The divinities which the Iranians had worshipped for centuries were rehabilitated. They became subsidiary worshipful beings, the Yazatas, and they assisted in promoting the Good and opposing Evil. Making proper offering to these minor dieties became the rituals of the religion. The main ritual, the preparation of the Haoma juice, the giver of immortality, was the one in which the entire Gathas were recited. This ritual preserved the Gathas but the ritual itself was of no significance in the theology of Zarathushtra. Gradually it came to be thought that the mere recitation of the Gathas produced some beneficial effect. At this point the effective mode of religious consciousness is that of the first stage, the functioning of magical spells; a form altogether remote from Zarathushtra’s vision. Similarly, the use of animal sacrifice in ritual, regardless of the piety with which such offering is made is not only irrelevant to the idea of religious life, but incompatible with it, for the destruction of life (certainly of a non-noxious creature) is the work of the Evil Spirit. One must mention that there are in the tradition prayers which would have met with Zarathushtra’s approval, prayers such as the affirmation of faith. What is one to make of this. A strong argument is made based on the fact that the prophet in the Gathas declares himself to be a priest. Furthermore, his poetic compositions are clearly in the highly refined style and form of Indo-Iranian priestly recitations, and that he uses words and phrases which are associated with rituals of offering. From this, must

it follow

that

his verses

are

related

to ritual

offering?

Certainly they are verses of praise, but are they necessarily anything more, especially when the content of his message makes such religious activity irrelevant? x I admit that I have emphasized the conceptual character of Zarathushtra’s teaching, as I believe it was central for the prophet himself.

The message is original, clear and powerful, which the prophet expressed in a splendidly poetic, if in the very inappropriate form of ritual verses. That perhaps was the only form in which he thought he could convey his religious vision. These considerations lead us to a problem in the understanding of the Zoroastrian tradition and also the mind of the prophet. It is

UNDERSTANDING ZARATHUSHTRA

109

formulated in a somewhat misleading way: Is the Zoroastrian tradition one of continuity in doctrine and, at least, some practice, or is it discontiuous? The only acceptable answer is, it is both. There are aspects, such as the doctrinal core of Zarathushtra’s message which has been maintained, but with alterations inevitably arising from its mythologization. To say, as some scholars did in the early part of this century, that the Zoroastrians in the Parthian and Sasanian periods perverted the religion is not quite right, because by the additions and mythic reformation they captured the core of the message which may otherwise have been abandoned, and thereby preserved what they could. To say, as some who call themselves traditionalists do, that whatever appears in the tradition must have come from the prophet himself impose upon the prophet inconsistencies which detract seriously from the unity and the form of religiosity of his vision. The tradition has to be understood as the historical manifestation of a profound religious vision in the forms of each epoch; and the philosophical clarity of the vision of the prophet must be seen for what it is, the reflective religion he formulated in non-mythologic form.

GILBERT

LAZARD

LE DIALECTE DE RUDBÄR (GILÄN) Au cours d’un bref séjour à Rasht en septembre 1949, j'ai eu l’occasion de mener une enquête sommaire sur le dialecte du district de Rudbär, au sud du Gilän. Ce dialecte confine vers le nord au gilaki, vers le nord-ouest au domaine tâleshi, dont j'ai décrit le parler de Mäsule (Lazard 1978, 1979a et b), et, vers le sud et l’ouest, aux dialectes

dits râti, qui ont été explorés si efficacement par E. Yarshater (1959, 1960, 1962, 1964, 1969a, b, c, 1970). Il est proche parent du gilaki et se

range donc dans le groupe des dialectes caspiens. Le district de Rudbär est situé sur la route de Qazvin à Rasht. Il couvre la vallée du Qezel Owzan sur environ 6 farsax, de Manjil au voisinage d’Emämzäde Häshem, localité où, paraît-il, on parle déjà gilaki. C’est une des rares régions d’Iran où l’on cultive l’olivier. Mon informateur fut un jeune homme de 27 ans nommé Karim Dogowharäni, instituteur à Rasht. Il était ne dans cette même ville, mais d’une famille originaire de Dogowharän (Rudbar) et il retournait chaque été dans ce village. Il s’est prêté à l’enquête avec une bonne grâce dont je lui suis reconnaissant.

Phonologie. Pour le vocalisme j’ai noté ie a à o u et une voyelle centrale a. Mais il y a de nombreux flottements entre a et 4, a et a, a et e, a et o. Il semble que les réalisations soient susceptibles de variations importantes selon l’environnement phonétique. D’autre part l’informateur m’a dit lui-même qu’il ne pronongait pas exactement comme les habitants du pays. Dans ces conditions il n’est guère possible, sur la base des données recueillies, d'établir le système des voyelles. Il se peut qu’il faille poser une opposition de quantité pour les timbres e et o, car [aden] «donne» (imp.) est distinct de [âde:n] «donnez» (id.), et [xor] «soleil» l’est de [xo:r] «sœur», mais il n’est pas exclu que ces [e] et [o] brefs ne soient que des réalisations du phonème 2. Le consonantisme n’appelle pas de remarques. On note l’absence de [q], si ce n’est dans la réalisation de y géminé. Nom.

Le pluriel est en -on (suffixe qui attire l’accent), ex. ddamon

«gens», dazdon «voleurs», gusandon «moutons»,

asbäbon «objets, cho-

DIALECTE DE RUDBÂR

ses», mion «cheveux».

Les noms en -a font leur pluriel en -on, ex. läva

«parole», pl. lâvon. Une finale -e (inaccentuée) est la marque «mère»,

111

du cas oblique, ex. mâr

obl. märe, gol «fleur», obl. göle. Tout nom

déterminant

un

autre nom est au cas oblique et précède son déterminé, ex. märe zabon «la langue de la mère», pasäre yabr «la tombe du fils», göle xäla «pétale de fleur». On emploie aussi l’oblique avec les postpositions, ex. märe-re «pour la mère», gure-sar «sur la tombe», säröye-mion «au milieu de la toile». Les noms en -a font leur oblique en -e (accentué), ex. hamsäye karkalon «le poulailler du voisin», xone-re «pour la maison». Les noms en -i font, régulièrement, -ie, ex. ydzie-var «auprès du juge». Mais les noms en--ä et en -u sont invariables, ex. varzä kalla «la tête du taureau», râ-mion «au milieu du chemin, en cours de route», zänu-sar

«sur le genou». Une finale -4 (inaccentuée) caractérise l’objet et l’attributaire (accusatif-datif), ex. mara borden «ils amenèrent la mère», ye-ta dözdä borden

«ils amenérent un voleur», asbäbönä dakona «il met les objets», märä buguen bay «dites à [ma] mère de venir», ye-tä pusta äday hasana «il donna une coquille à Hasan». Cet -d ce contracte avec une finale -a en -4 (accentué), ex. rama bapay «garde le troupeau», xond vanom «je vois la maison». Il subsiste après i et -u, ex. Ghalia daxond «elle appela les gens», cud ogura «il prend le bâton». Il se contracte avec -4, ex. varzd vanom «je vois le taureau», mais j'ai relevé aussi raya < ra + -à (v. ci-dessous, texte I 4).

Adjectif. L’adjectif épithète prend la finale -e (inaccentuée) et précède le nom qu’il qualifie, ex. espide sak «chien blanc», narräde zanay «la femme maligne». Pronoms. Personnels (formes relevées): Sg. 1 2 PI. Dir. Obl.

man me

to te

NAT amä amé

2 soma seme

Acc.-dat. manä/mara tara amana/amara Semara En outre le pronom xo, obl. xo, acc.-dat. xörä, qui est proprement un réfléchi, est employé aussi comme pronom de lére personne, réfléchi ou non, ex. xörä âpeca «il s’enveloppe», mais xérâ gira «il me prend» (v. ci-dessous, texte I2, 3). De même le pluriel xoson s’emploie avec le sens de «nous» (v. ci-dessous, texte IV 8).

112

GILBERT LAZARD

Démonstratifs. Les formes suivantes ont été notées: proche sg. dir. in, obl. ine, acc.-dat. ind, pl. acc.-dat. esönä; lointain sg. dir. on, obl.

one, acc.-dat. 6nd, pl. obl. o$ône, acc.-dat. o$énä. On a noté en outre une forme emphatique hon (v. ci-dessous, texte V 8), et, employe adjectivement, e «ce...-ci». Verbe. Conjugaison du verbe «tomber», rad. I gan-, rad. II kat-. Sg. PI. Présent | gan-om gan-ém 2 gan-i gan-en 3 gan-a gan-én Subjonctif | bö-gan-om ba-gan-em 2 ba-gan-i bd-gan-en 3 bd-gan-a bé-gan-en Impératif bö-gan Preterit | ba-kat-om ba-kat-em 2 ba-kat-i ba-kat-en 3 ba-kat ba-kat-en Imparfait l kät-eme kät-eme 2 kät-eye kat-ene 3 kat-e kat-ene Parfait l ba-kat-âm ba-kat-ém 2 ba-kat-äy ba-kat-én 3 ba-kat-é * ba-kat-an Pl.-q.-parf. | ba-kats-bâm ba-katö-bem 2 ba-katd-bi ba-katd-ben 3 ba-katd-ba ba-katd-ban Les verbes dont le radical se termine par une voyelle ont une conjugaison contracte: les formes relevées sont mentionnées ci-dessous dans les remarques sur les textes. Outre les temps indiqués ci-dessus j’ai relevé un imparfait progressif katandabam, katandabi (ou katandabäm, katändobi), etc. = pn. dästam mioftadam «j'étais en train de tomber», etc.

Les verbes transitifs se conjuguent comme les intransitifs, aussi bien au passé qu’au présent. Copule: Sg. Pl. l

-om

-em

2,

-i

-en

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113

Verbe «être»:

Subjonctif

l bobom bébem 2 bibi bében 3 bubu bében Pretérit 1 bam bem 2 bi ben 3 ba bän Les verbes à préverbes sont fréquents. Les préverbes (comme, d’ailleurs, la négation) excluent le préfixe ba-. Les préverbes suivants ont été notés: — à- (ou a-) avec b(u)- «être» (qui prend le sens de «devenir»), pec«envelopper», d(a)- «donner», gard- «tourner», gir- «prendre», kas«tirer» (dans äkas äkas «lutte»), kon- «faire», ras- «arriver», zan«frapper» (qui prend le sens de «mettre» [une bague au doigt]); — ba- dans ba-ras- «envoyer»; — bar- avec är- «apporter» (emprunt au persan?), kas- «tirer»; — da- (ou da-) avec bad- «fermer», gan- «tomber», kon- «faire» (qui prend le sens de «mettre» [un vêtement]); — ja- (ou jo-) avec kon- «faire» (qui prend le sens de «enfouir»); — o- dans o-gur- «prendre, ramasser»; — xo- dans xo-kon- «répandre», et xu- dans xu-gir- «soulever, enlever». Postpositions: amrä «avec», dela «dans», mion «au milieu de, dans», re «pour», Sen «appartenant à», sar «sur», var «auprès de, chez».

Textes!

I 1. ye-tä dozd be-Sa ye nafare xona asbäb bi-dizina. xo säroyä valä àkord ke asbäbonä one-mion da-kona va bad jam ä-kona o-gura bu-Su. 2. sab xona xota-ba. xo-re baryas G-garda, xoSa säroye-mion va xorä d-peca. 3. dozd har yadr jon kana va garda hicie ni-yâfa. nâomid â-garda ke xo säroya o-gura bu-Su. badbaxtia vana ke sab xona one dela xote. xo-re gua: agar ona o-gurom, mardak pa ä-bu, xora gira. 4. ndomid xo raya kaj ä-kona, az dar birun Su. sab xona gua: dara dabad, momken-a ye nafar b-äy. dozd gua: man b-omäm te zirpusä bordom, dar ävä baz bu-bu ta ye nafar digar b-ây te bäläpusä b-ora.

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GILBERT LAZARD

Traduction

1. Un voleur alla dans la maison de quelqu’un pour voler. Il étala sa toile pour y mettre les objets [volés], [les y] emballer, puis ramasser [le tout] et s’en aller. 2. Le maître de maison était couché. Il fait semblant de se retourner, se couche sur la toile et s’y enveloppe. 3. Le voleur a beau s’efforcer et tourner [de tout côté], il ne trouve

rien. Découragé il se retourne pour ramasser sa toile et s’en aller. Il voit que malheureusement le maître de maison est couché dedans. Il se dit: Si je la prends, le bonhomme se réveillera et m’attrapera.

4. En désespoir de cause il s’eloigne de biais et sort. Le maître de maison dit: Ferme la porte, quelqu'un pourrait entrer. Le voleur dit: Je suis venu, je t’ai apporté une couverture de dessous; il faut que la porte soit ouverte pour que quelqu'un d’autre vienne t’apporter une couverture de dessus.

Remarques

1. «aller»: prés. Som, Si, Su, Sem, Sen, Sen; subj. 3sg. busu; imp. basa; pret.: basam, basay, basa, basem, basen, basan; parf. 1sg. Siam; inf. Sian. — «voler»: prés. lsg. dizinom; prêt. 1sg. bediziom (mais bedizdiom, cidessous texte II 4); parf. Isg. bediziam. — «faire»: I kon-, II kord-, — «prendre, enlever»: I o-gur-, II o-gut-. 2. «dormir, se coucher»: I xos-, II xot-. — xo-re = pn. bard-ye xodes. — baryas «faussement». — «se retourner»: I d-gard-, II ägardast-. — «envelopper»: I d-pec-, II äpext-. 3. «creuser,

arracher»:

I kan-, II kand-. —

hicie = pn. hic cizi. —

«trouver»: I yaf-, II yaft-. — xote: parf. 3sg. — «dire»: prés. guom, gi, gu(a), gem, gen, gen; pret. bogutom., etc. — badbaxtia (pour -4?): probablement accusatif-datif employé adverbialement. — xora (= xorä) est ici employé comme pronom de Ire pers. sg. non réfléchi. — «prendre»: I gir-, II git-. 4. «fermer»: I da-bad-, II da-bast-. — «venir»: pres. dhäm, ahay, ähäy (mais xo$ dy «plait», ci-dessous texte V 5), ehem, ehen, Ghan; subj. bam, bay, bay, bem, ben, ban; imp. bid (mais bia ije «viens ici); pret. bomäm, bomay, boma, bomem, bomen, bomän; parf. 1sg. bomiäm, 3sg. bomia; pgpf. 1sg. bomia-bam; inf. omen — «apporter»: I or-, II ord-; inf. ordan.

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II 1. ye ruzâ ye-ta dezda b-orden yanäre ba-ka$en. yäzi bo-gut: ce andarz dari? dezd bo-gut: hice, fayat xo mara bu-guen b-äy i-je, ind xos a-dom. ine mara b-orden. 2. dazd bo-gut: mar jon bi-à tard varanga a-girom. vaxti ke varanga ägit, bo-gut: te zabonä bar-är ta xo$ G-dom. mar xo zabonä biron b-ord. dazd xo mare zabona gaz à-git ba-kand. mar ba-kat. 3. yâzi bo-gut: ay dazd, to alon do-ta gona dari, ye-ta dazdi, ye-tà mara kostan. dazd bo-gut: xo hic gona na-darom, gonä one-Sen-a. yazi bo-gut. cere?. 4. dazd bo-gut: xo xurda bam. ye ruza ba-Sam hamsäye karkalon, yeta moryonä ba-dizdiom, b-ordom xo märe-re. mar xora x0$ a-day, bo-gut:

safar-e digar baz-am be-dizin. im ba ke alon bo-donostom. agar xo mar xo dasta bo-sujunia-ba, dia xo kar be in rosväi na-rasie. 5. yazi barmäst ke ond äzäd bo-konen ke de dezdi ma-kona.

Traduction

1. Un jour on conduisit un voleur pour le pendre. Le juge dit: Quelle est ta dernière volonté? Le voleur dit: Rien, seulement que vous disiez a ma mère de venir ici que je l’embrasse. On amena la mère. 2. Le voleur dit: Viens, chére mére, que je te prenne dans mes bras. Quand il la prit dans ses bras, il dit: Tire la langue que je t’embrasse. La mère tira la langue. Le voleur mordit la langue de sa mère et l’arracha. La mère tomba. 3. Le juge dit: Tu es maintenant coupable de deux fautes, voleur, l’une [est] le vol, l’autre le meurtre de ta mère. Le voleur dit: Je n’ai aucune faute, c’est sa faute à elle. Le juge dit: Pourquoi? 4. Le voleur dit: J'étais enfant. Un jour je suis allé dans le poulailler du voisin, j'ai volé une poule, je l’ai portée à ma mère. Elle m'a embrassé et a dit: La prochaine fois vole encore. Voilà ce que j'ai compris maintenant. Si ma mere m'avait brûlé la main, je (litt. mon affaire) n’en serais pas venu à cette extrémité scandaleuse. 4. Le juge ordonna qu’on le relachat [à condition] qu’il ne volät plus.

Remarques

1. ye ruzä: expression de temps à l’accusatif-datif. — «avoir»: I där-, II däst-. — xos: «baiser». — «donner»: pres. d-dom, ä-di, a-dia, d-dem,

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ä-den, â-dân (mais d-dien, ci-dessous texte V 8), nég. d-n-dom, etc.; prêt.

a-dam, d-day, â-dâ (mais d-day, ci-dessous texte III 3), d-dem, d-den, adan, nég. ä-n-däm, etc.; parf. d-dähäm, ä-dahay, à-dây, ä-dehem, àdehen, ä-dähän; pqpf. à-dä-bâm, etc.; inf. 4-dâân. — varanga= pn. bagal. 2. «tomber»: I gan-, II kat-. 3. Sen précédé du cas oblique «propriété de, appartenant a». 4. xo märe-re «pour ma mère». — safar-e digar: expression persane, avec ezäfe. — im (devant b-) = in «ceci». — «savoir»: I don-, II donost-. — «brûler»: I sujun-, II sujuni-; busujunia-ba: pgpf. 3sg. à sens d’irreel. — dia = pn. digar. — «arriver»: prés. rasom, etc.; pret. barasiom, barasi, barasi, barasiem, barasien, barasien; parf. barasiam, barasiay, barasia, barasiem, barasien, barasian; impf. rasieme, rasieye, rasie, rasieme, rasiene, rasiene; l’imparfait est ici en fonction d’irreel. 5. «commander»: pres. Isg. farmäm/barmäm, 2pl. barmen; inf. farmästan/barmästan.

—

de (dee?) = pn. digar, cf. ci-dessus dia. —

ma-

kona: subj. nég. 3sg.; noter la négation ma.

III l. Ahmad-o Hasan ba-San xarmane-sar. o-je ye-ta vuz bi-yäften. in gute: xo Sen-a. on gute: xo Sen-a. Gkas äkas bo-korden. 2. ye var isone xälu ä-rasi, bo-gut: ci-a? tur a-bien? Gmad bo-gut: xo in vuzä bi-yâftom, in gua xo Sen-a. hasan bo-gut: na avval xo be-dia-bam. ta ba-$âm xol a-bom ke o-gurom, in o-gut. hala xorä a-n-dia. 3. xälu bo-gut: barar jon, ä-den xorä. xo alon Seme-re togs konom. ädan ona. xälu vuzä be-git, do pal ä-kord, ye-tä pustä à-day Hasanä, ye-tä pustä â-day ämadä, one dele mayzä xo-re bo-xord. 4. bo-gut: in xo haq ba. agar Soma âka$ äkas no-kordene, Seme-re togs bo-korda ben, kolä Seme sar ne-See.

Traduction

l. Ahmad et Hasan allèrent aux champs (litt. à la meule). Là ils trouvèrent une noix. Celui-ci disait: Elle est à moi. Celui-là disait: Elle est à moi. Ils s’empoignerent. 2. Leur oncle survint. Il dit: Qu’y a-t-il? Êtes-vous devenus fous? Ahmad dit: Moi j’ai trouvé cette noix, il dit que c’est à lui. Hasan dit: Non, moi je l’avais vue le premier. Quand je suis alle me baisser pour la

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ramasser, [c'est] lui [qui] l’a ramassée. (Et) maintenant il ne me [la] donne pas. 3. L’oncle dit: Mes amis (litt. cher frère), donnez[-la] moi. Je vais vous la partager. Ils [la] lui donnèrent. L’oncle prit la noix, la partagea en deux, donna une coquille à Ahmad, une coquille à Hasan et mangea

lui-même l’amande (litt. l’'amande de son intérieur). 4. Il dit: C’etait mon salaire. Si vous ne vous étiez pas battus et que vous l’ayez partagée entre vous, vous n’auriez pas été dupés.

Remarques

l. xarmane: j'ai noté xarmana, mais c’est sans doute une faute. 2. bian (inf.) «être», a-bian «devenir». — «voir»: prés. vanom, etc.: prêt. bediom, etc., et bavanastom, etc.; bedia-bäm: pgpf. Isg. — xol «courbé». — xorä d-n-dia: xo est ici employé comme pronom de première personne non réfléchi; de même dans la phrase suivante d-den xo-rä. 3. «manger»: I xor-, II xord-. 4. bo-korda-ben: pgpf. 2pl. en fonction d’irreel. — ne-see: impf. 3sg. de sian «aller». IV l. ye-ta pirezanay ba, ye-ta pesar dast xeyli jovon, gole xala monaste. ye ruza ine taka dard be-git. bo-gut: mar jon xo-re ja ba-gan. mar bogut: ci-a, ru jon? tara bad vanom, ma-xos. jovon bo-gut: na. xo-re deräz a-ba. . 2. ye var, mar be-di ke ine pesar xo-re lal a-ba. mar zär-o Seyvan bokord. ahäliä da-xond ke b-en, xo näzenin jovon bomorde. pirezanakon va ahäli b-omän, bi-dien jovonay bo-morde. 3. one mara bo-guten: ävä ind Sosten va az zamin o-guten. ine-re xeyli gonä-y ke agar Gdam bi-mira zi o-no-guren. mar dad korde. ähäli jovona bo-Sosten, jalde xäk jo-korden. one sara gel xo-korden. 4. mär-e afrat bo-Sa gure sar. Soru bo-kord gele lala xondan. ahdli boman märä ä-gardonien, be-barden ona. 5. Sab da-kat, tarik ba hata gurä monaste. pirezan täyat n-ord, dobara ba-Sa xo pesare yabre-sar. xob gus G-day, bi-di nälläjay sedä (a)hay mesle in-ke ine jovon no-morde, dad kona ke b-en xorä bar-ka$en, xo zendäm. 6. mar par a-git, jalde Ghalid bo-gut: ben, bel b-oren, yabra ba-kanen,

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xoda xo ruâ xorû G-day. mardom bo-guten: zanay to tur â-biay. te pasar bo-mord. in lävonä ma-kon. te-re xanden. ba-Sa xona bo-xos. 7. mär-e bicâra nämid ähäy pasare yabre-sar. xo cangäle-amrä gurä eskäja. vana xo pasar na-morde, lava kona, gua: ay biensäfon, xorä zendä yabr ja-korden. az avval ke marâ bososten ta ja-korden xorä yäd-a, montahä no-tonostom takon boxorom yä lava bo-konom. 8. mar Soru bo-kord dad korden. mardom ä-rasien, hamä be-dien. boguten: Alla xo$on cere in-yadr biayl-em. sala in ba ke can-tâ ädamon-e rissafid ve donyäbediä da-xonda-bem ta o$on bo-guta-ben ke in jovon bomorde ya na-morde, bad ja-korda-bem. 9. dia hata resm ba-ba ke ye nafar mira ye saat ava istan can-ta adame dona ävä da-xonden. agar o$on ejaze ba-dan ke in bo-morde badan ava mordä jo-korden, berä-ye in-ke momken-a bazi ädam xo-re sakte bo-kona bad bohus b-ay.

Traduction

1. Il y avait une vieille femme, elle avait un fils trés jeune qui ressemblait à un pétale de fleur (c.-a-d. très joli). Un jour la douleur le prit à l’hypocondre (litt. prit son hypocondre). Il dit: Chère mère, prépare-moi un lit. La mère dit: Qu’y a-t-il, mon enfant? Je te vois mal [en point], ne te couche pas. Le jeune homme dit: Non. Il s’etendit. 2. Tout à coup la mère vit que son fils était devenu muet. Elle poussa des gémissements et des plaintes. Elle appela les gens [en disant]: Venez, mon joli jeune homme est mort. Les vieilles et les gens vinrent et virent que le jeune homme était mort. 3. Ils dirent à sa mère: Il faut le laver et l’enlever de terre. C’est un grand péché (litt. pour lui), quand quelqu'un est mort, de ne pas l'enlever vite. La mère criait. Les gens lavèrent le jeune homme, vite ils l’enterrèrent et le recouvrirent de terre. 4. La mère esseulée s’en alla sur la tombe et commença à pousser des lamentations. Les gens vinrent pour la faire retourner et l’emmenerent. 5. La nuit tomba, sombre comme le tombeau (litt. elle était sombre de sorte qu’elle ressemblait au tombeau). La vieille n’y tint plus, elle revint sur la tombe de son fils. Elle écouta bien et s’aperçut qu’une très faible voix se faisait entendre (litt. vient), comme si son jeune fils n’était pas mort, mais qu’il appelle [disant]: Venez, sortez-moi, je suis vivant. 6. La mère se précipita et bien vite dit aux gens: Venez, apportez des bêches, creusez la tombe, Dieu m’a rendu (litt. donné) mon enfant. Les

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gens dirent: Femme, tu es devenue folle, ton fils est mort. Ne parle pas ainsi (litt. ne fais pas cette parole), on va se moquer de toi. Va à la maison te coucher. 7. La malheureuse mère, désespérée, va sur la tombe de son fils. Elle

fend la tombe avec ses ongles et voit que son fils n’est pas mort, il parle, il dit: Méchants, vous m'avez enterré tout vivant. Depuis le moment où vous m'avez lavé jusqu’à celui où vous m'avez enfoui, je me souviens [de tout], seulement je ne pouvais pas bouger ou parler. 8. La mère se mit à pousser des cris. Les gens arrivèrent et virent tout. Ils dirent: Seigneur, pourquoi sommes-nous si stupides? Il aurait convenu que nous appelions quelques vieillards expérimentés: ils nous auraient dit si ce jeune homme était mort ou non, et nous [ne] l’aurions enterré [qu’] après. 9. Depuis, la coutume s’est établie (litt. est devenue ainsi) que, [quand] quelqu'un meurt, il faut attendre une heure, il faut appeler quelques personnes qui savent. S’ils donnent la permission [en disant]: celui-ci est mort, alors il faut enterrer le mort. Car il est possible que certaines gens aient une attaque et reprennent ensuite conscience.

Remarques 1. xäla «pétale», cf. xal «branche». — monaste: impf. 3sg. — xo-re «pour moi»: xo en fonction de pronom de Ire personne. — ru «enfant» < ruh «âme». — ja «lit». — bagan = pn. biandaz litt. «jette». 2. bomorde: parf. 3sg. — jovonay = pn. javänak, cf. plus haut pireza-

nay. 3. ävä «il faut». — gond-y = gona + copule 3sg. — korde: impf. 3sg. — «mourir»: I mir-, II mord-, — jo/ja-kord-: «enfouir». — xo-kord-: «répandre», ex. baya ab xo-kordi «as-tu arrosé le jardin?» 4. mär-e afrat = pn. mädar-e bikas, avec ezâfé à la persane. — gele lâlâ: lamentation d’une mère sur un enfant mort, litt. berceuse (/4/4) de la terre (gel). — «emmener, emporter»: I bar-, II bard-. 5. hata: «ainsi». — n-ord: prét. neg. 3sg. de ord- «porter». 6. ä-biay: parf. 2sg. 7. mär-e bicdra: ezâfé à la persane. — cangäle-amrä: correction; J'ai noté, sans doute par erreur, cangäla. — «fendre»; I eskäj-, II askat-/ uskät-. 8. xoÿon: «nous». — ädamon-e rissafid: ezäfe persan. — donyäbediâ= pn. donyä-dide-râ. — da-xonda-bem: pgpf. 1pl.; boguta-ben:

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GILBERT LAZARD

papf 3pl.; ja-korda-bem: pqpf. 1pl; tous ces plus-que-parfaits sont employés avec le sens d’irreel. 9. «attendre, stationner»: inf. istän/istähän; les formes istam, istay, istäy, istem, isten, iSten, recueillies comme des formes de présent, sont sans doute un mélange de formes de parfait (sg. 1, 2, 3) et de présent (pl. 3; les formes de pl. 1 et 2. sont communes au présent et au parfait); au subjonctif on a bistom, bisti, bistia (!), bistem, bisten, bisten. — Gdame donä: ezäfe à la persane.

V l. ye-tä barâr ba jovon va cupon, ye-ta xor däst. ye-ta Saba xo xorä bo-gut: xor jon, mardake datar hasti? rama ba-pay dazdon m-ân ame gusandonä ma-baren, barär bu-$u emsab nämzod-bäzi. xor gua: barär jon, xo came sar ba-Sa, zi bi-â, xoda te-amra. 2. cupon dasgire cua o-gura, neheb kona, Su nämzode-var. namzoda avval xo$ à-dia, one sara xo zânu-sar nia, Soru kona dardel kordan. 3. az e ra dozdon ä-rasien, ba-San gusandonä bi-dizinen. xor con xayli narrâd ba bo-gut: ava i-je esonä paryula a-dom. 4. bo-gut: baräron, xosone mälon xub sara n-omiän, vel-en. betar-a lala o-guron, ba-zanom ta xo$one mälon jam ä-ben. con ame gusandon âdi-en, ava ama jam ä-kordene-re lala ba-zanem. agar ejaza barmen lala o-gurom ba-zanom. 5. dozdon bo-guten: bad ni-a ama ye xorda lala esnavem, amarä xo$ ay. xor lala o-gura, jalde SirSire-re zana. hata xorom zana ke dozdone dahan ä-bu, mât à-ben. 6. dale mion zee: barar jon rama ba-$a, ame mâlon hama ba-Sa... 7. jovon sada ba-snavast. xo nämzodä bo-gut: gus d-den, me xor lala zana, yavar xay. pas tab darom bo-$om ba-vanom xo xore-sar ce bald bomia. 8. cu-d o-gura, par a-gira, Ghay ba sar-vaxt-e xor. vana, ce vani, dozdon yay ä-bien, xo xore lala gus ä-dien. az post cud haväle dia, ye nafarâ gana. xor, vaxti ke vana barär à-rasi, hon-am cud das a-gira, $oru kona dozdon-ä zien. 9. in-yad zenen ke dozdon pasimon ä-ben, da-vazen. râ-mion hamdigara gutane: narrâde zanay ajab lala-i zee. on ye-tä gute: xäkä amesar, zanay amarä paryula ad-day. amarä sargarm ä-korde td ine barär yavar à-rasa.

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Traduction

1. Il y avait un frère, un jeune berger, qui avait une soeur. Un soir il dit à sa soeur: Chère soeur, es-tu brave (litt. fille d'homme)? Garde le troupeau, que les voleurs ne viennent pas emmener nos moutons, [de sorte] que [ton] frère aille ce soir voir sa fiancée (litt. au jeu de fiancée). La soeur dit: Cher frère, sur mon oeil! va [et] reviens vite, Dieu [soit] avec toi! 2. Le berger prend son bâton, s’élance et va auprès de sa fiancée. D'abord il embrasse sa fiancée, il prend sa tête sur ses genoux, il commence à faire ses confidences. 3. Cependant (litt. par ce chemin-ci) les voleurs arrivèrent (litt. et allerent).pour voler les moutons. Comme la soeur était très maligne, elle [se] dit: Il faut ici que je les trompe. 4. Elle dit: Frères, nos bêtes ne sont pas rassemblées (litt. bien venues) sur l’aire, elles sont éparpillées. Il vaut mieux que je prenne la flûte et que je joue afin que nos bêtes se rassemblent. Car nos moutons sont [ainsi] habitués: il faut que nous jouions de la flûte pour [les] rassembler. Si vous le permettez, je vais prendre la flûte pour [en] jouer. 5. Les voleurs dirent: Il n’est pas mauvais que nous écoutions un peu de flûte, cela nous plaît. La soeur prend la flûte et vite joue vaillamment (?). Elle joue si bien que les voleurs restent bouche bée (litt. la bouche des voleurs s’ouvre), ils sont pétrifiés.

6. Sur (litt. dans) la flûte elle jouait [ceci]: Cher frère, le troupeau est parti, Toutes nos bêtes sont parties... 7. Le jeune homme entendit le son [de la flûte]. Il dit à sa fiancée: Ecoute,

ma

soeur joue de la flûte, elle demande

de l’aide. J’ai hâte

d’aller voir quel malheur est arrivé à ma soeur. 8. Il prend son baton, il vole, il arrive auprès de sa soeur. Il voit, que

voit-il? (litt. que vois-tu?) les voleurs sont (litt. devenus) stupéfaits, ils écoutent la flûte de sa soeur. Il brandit par derrière son bâton et abat un [des voleurs]. Quand la soeur voit que son frère est arrivé, elle aussi saisit un bâton et commence à frapper les voleurs. 9. Ils les frappent tellement que les voleurs se repentent et s’enfuient. En cours de route ils se disaient l’un à l’autre: La maligne femme a joliment joué son air de flûte (litt. une flûte). L’autre disait: Mort de ma vie (litt. Terre sur notre tête), la femme nous a trompés. Elle nous a distraits jusqu'à ce que son frère vienne à [son] aide.

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Remarques

Selon l’informateur ce conte appartient à la tradition tâleshi. J’en ai publié une version dans le parler tâleshi de Mâsulé (Lazard 1979a: 5052). à 1. ye-tä Saba: cf. ye ruzä, texte II 1. — m-än, ma-baren: subj. nég. 3pl. — came-sar = pn. be ru-ye casm, c’est-à-dire «à tes ordres, j’ob£is, compte sur moi». 4. sara: l'aire où l’on rassemble les bêtes. — n-omiän: parf. nég. 3pl. — «frapper, jouer (d’un instrument)»: I zan-/zan-/zen-, II ze/zi-; inf. zien. — barmen = pn. befarmäi. 5. «entendre»: I esnav-, II esnavast-. — xorom «excellent». 6. zee: impf. 3sg. 7. «demander»: prés. Isg. xäm, 3sg. xay; II xäst-. 8. ba sar-vaxt-e: ezäfe persan. — gana: apparemment gan- s’emploie au sens transitif («abattre») et au sens intransitif («tomber»). 9. a-korde: parf. 3sg.

NOTES ' Comme il n’est pas possible d’établir le système des phonèmes vocaliques, les textes sont donnés

ici comme

ils ont été recueillis, avec des variations dans la notation

voyelles, sans effort de normalisation.

ABREVIATIONS acc.-dat. accusatif-datif dir. cas direct imp. impératif inf. infinitif litt. litteralement nég. négatif obl. cas oblique parf. parfait pl pluriel

pn. papf. prés. pret. sg. subj.

S

persan plus-que-parfait présent preterit singulier subjonctif

En outre, dans le cas des verbes, I signifie: radical I, et II: radical II.

des

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RÉFÉRENCES Lazard, G. 1978: «Le dialecte tâleshi de Mâsulé (Gilän)», Studia iranica 7, 251268. Lazard, G. 1979a: «Textes en täleshi de Mäsule», Srudia iranica 8, 33-66. Lazard, G. 1979b: «Glossaire mâsulei», Studia iranica 8, 269-275. Yarshater, E. 1959: «The Dialect of Shährud (Khalkhäl)», Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 22, 52-68. Yarshater, E. 1960: «The Tati Dialect of Kajal», Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 33, 275-286. Yarshater, E. 1962: «The Tati Dialects of Ramand», A Locust’s Leg, Studies in Honour of S.H. Tagizadeh, London, Humphries, 1962, 240-245.

Yarshater, E. 1964: «The Dialects of Alvir and Vidar», Indo-Iranica, Mélanges présentés a Georg Morgenstierne, Wiesbaden, Harrassowitz, 177-187. Yarshater, E. 1969a: A Grammar of Southern Tati Dialects, The Hague/Paris, Mouton. Yarshater, E. 1969b: «Distinction of Feminine Gender in Southern Tati», Studia classica et orientalia Antonino Pagliaro oblata, WI, Roma, Herder,

281-301. Yarshater, E. 1969c: «The Use of Postpositions in Southern Tati», Yadname-ye iräni-ye Minorsky, Tehran, Tehran University, 221-255. Yarshater, E. 1970: «The Tati Dialects of Tarom», W.B. Henning Memorial Volume, London, Humphries, 451-467.

DAVID N. MACKENZIE PAHLAVI COMPOUND ABSTRACTS One of the striking stylistic features of the 9th-century Pahlavi religious books is the frequent use of nominal compounds, and especially of compound abstracts ending in -yh. The artificiality of much of this style is easily shown by a comparison with the other Middle Persian texts we possess — the inscriptions of the early Sasanian period and the Manichaean literature. In the former such compounds are conspicuous by their complete absence!: those types which are found in the latter are mentioned below. Presumably this bookish style took its origin from the zand, the Pahlavi “translation”

of the Avesta, where

such compounds also abound, very often representing Avestan compound nouns, but also series of words. In the Yasna?, for example, we find:

ayär-barisnih

‘the quality of having

the bearing,

attitude

of a

friend’, i.e. ‘friendliness’, for vanta.barati- ‘bearing of love, adora-

tion’; äfrin-göwisnih ‘utterance of benediction’ for äfri.vacah- ‘uttering blessing (or, curse)’; Carag-kardarih ‘application of a remedy’ for Carakara@ra- ‘*purpose’, and so on. When, in the introduction to my Concise Pahlavi Dictionary, I wrote “it is generally a simple matter to analyse Pahlavi compounds, given the elements and provided that the rules of their construction are understood”, it was to some extent with tongue in the cheek: I had in mind some of the freer translations of nominal compounds I had recently come across in Zaehner’s Zurvan*, e.g. p. 283, $41, 42 harvisp-astomandih = p. 318 ‘all solid’ [sic, adjective]. If a compound at all, this would be ‘the state of being allcorporeal’;

p. 284, $51 purr-ravisnih = p.320 ‘progeny abundant’, for ‘the condition of having complete currency’, i.e. ‘(continuing) abundance’;

p. 368, $15 névakih kamak [sic] ‘desires welfare’, for nekih-kämag ‘having the will of goodness’, i.e. ‘benevolent’;

$16 fraZäm-perözih ‘the final victory’, for frazam-pérdzih ‘the quality of being victorious in the end’ (not quite the same thing); not to mention the complete errors, such as: r

PAHLAVI COMPOUND ABSTRACTS

125

p. 404, Z 32 (1) ayaft-x"ästärıh (rad) ‘because they have amassed wealth’, for äyaft-xwästärih ‘the state of being an asker for favour, asking favours’. More remarkable than these translations is Nyberg’s handling of such compounds. Although several occur in the texts collected in his Manual I, he by no means always lists them as such in the accompanying glossary, even when they were translated into similar Sanskrit compounds by Neryosangh®. Instead they are largely divided into two categories. If the second element of the compound,

before the abstract

-yh, is nominal, this combination is mostly regarded as a separate word. Thus, although äz-kamagih (Skr. lobhäbhiläsa-) is correctly recognized as the abstract of a bahuvrihi Gz-kamak ‘addicted to dz’ (cf. Man. MP “zg'm), kamakéh’ appears confusingly as a distinct lemma. garänwinahih (Skr. mahäpäpatva-) on the other hand, abstract of the bahuvrihi (secondary adjectival compound) *garan-winah ‘(one guilty) of grave sin’, appears only as garän ‘heavy, hard, grave’ and vinäseh ‘sinfulness’. This is quite impermissible. If a separate word *winäahih were to have existed—which it originally did not—it would have had the meaningless meaning ‘*sin-ness’. ‘Sinfulness’ is MP windhgarih, cf. NP gunahkari. Of words whose second element is verbal, however, we

are told in §5.10 of the Grammatical survey®, in one of the more extraordinary misconceptions to be found there, that: “If the v[erbal] n[oun] is preceded by any qualifier it must always take the abstract ending -6h: göbisn barisneh, passax" göbisneh, bavandak meénisnéh, fetc.]’’. Le., although in the glossary bavandak-ménisnéh [i.e. -menisnih] (Skr. sampürnamänasatä-) is recognized as ‘perfect thought’, i.e. the ‘Phi. rendering of Av. Armaiti’, it seems

to have_been

understood

as

two words, ‘perfect’ and ‘*thinking-ness’ (but v. infra). paymän-göwisnih (Skr. pramänä vak) ‘the quality of being *paymän-göwisn, 1.e. having speech of moderation’

is divided

into patmän ‘moderation’,

etc., and

göbisneh ‘det[ermined] v.n. = göbisn speech’. Nyberg thus regarded paymän here as a separate ‘qualifier’, i.e. for. him ‘moderateness of speech’ could be expressed as ‘moderation speech-ness’, just as paymaning-xwarisnih (Skr. pramänähäratä-) ‘the quality of eating moderately (lit. having moderate eating)’ was ‘moderate eating-ness’. In the light of these confusions in a handbook used widely by students, it is perhaps worth while taking a closer look at the types of compound abstracts which occur (though it is rather dry fare to offer an old friend in place of birthday cake). By far the commonest type is the abstract formed from a bahuvrihi

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DAVID N. MACKENZIE

compound, of the type ‘barefoot(ed)ness’. It is quite well represented in Man. MP°, sometimes alongside the basic adjective, e.g. ‘ywgwhryh ‘the state of having one substance, consubstantiality’, ‘stwrm’n ‘having a *coarse mind, *obstinate’ and °yy ‘*obstinacy”, dwsqyrdg'n ‘of evil deed, wicked’ and °yh ‘wickedness’, dwzrw’n ‘of evil spirit’ and °yh ‘evilness of spirit’, nywbxt ‘of good fortune’ and “yy ‘good fortune’. In Pahlavi the basic adjective itself is not so often attested. In the MX we find: 8, 33 anägih-kämag ‘evil-intentioned’ to 2, 117 anägih-kämagih (Skr. anyayakämatä-) ‘evil-intentionedness’; 16, 26 nek-göhr and 16, 30 wad-göhr ‘of good /evil nature’ to 10, 9 nek-göhrih (Skr. subharatnatva-), 10, 10 wad-göhrih (Skr. nikrstaratnatva-) ‘good- /evil-naturedness’ ; Jahisn-ayär ‘having fortune as helper, fortunate’ (cf. NP baxtyar) occurs in PT 67, 5; 95, 3!°, whence MX

2, 66 jahisn-ayarih ‘good

fortune’;

Jud-ristag ‘of a different way, sect’ appears at DkM 413, 6, and judristagih AW

1, 9; MX

42, 9 ‘heterodoxy’.

Further, without the corresponding adjective: 59, 8 abar-tanih (Skr. uddhatasariratä-) ‘overbearingness’ ; 16, 57 busdadsp-kamagih ‘slothfulness’ and 37, 21 waran-kämagih ‘lustfulness’; 37, 29; 57, 9 Casm-areskih

‘covetousness’,

lit. ‘the state of having

envy in the eye’; 36, 20 duz-abäyistih ‘the condition of having the desire of a thief (Nyberg duz and apastéh ‘*support’! Neryosangh yah ... cauritam haste karoti, suggesting that he understood *duz-az-dastih); 8, 30 meh-südih ‘the condition of having greater advantage’; 2, 92 päd-uzwänih ‘the quality of having a guarded tongue, reticence’: 27, 73 purr-&medih ‘the condition of having complete hope, optimism’ ; 57, 26 purr-xradih ‘the quality of having complete wisdom, allwiseness’. Some such compounds have a very artificial flavour, e.g. 37, 19 wad-dösäramih ‘the condition of having bad love’ (or simply ‘bad-love’, as a descriptive compound, since both dösaram and dösäramih mean ‘love’, v. infra, n. 10), presumably derived from some such Avestan word as *ayö.zaosa- ‘*ill-will’. Several of the underlying bahuvrihis have verbal nouns in -isn as their second element, as in Man.

MP

‘n’g-kwnySn

‘of evil doing, evildoer’ ,

PAHLAVI COMPOUND ABSTRACTS

127

(though no such abstract is attested), or NP bozorg-manes ‘magnanimous’, whence bozorgmanesi ‘magnanimity’. In Pahlavi we find: MX 21, 8, 40; PYV, Gl. p. 95 tar-menisn (= Av. taramati-) ‘having perverse, oblique thought, contemptuous’, yielding 21, 43 f.; 36, 26 tar-menisnih ‘perversity, contempt’. Further examples are: 21, 33 adädestän-xwarisnih ‘the state of having unjust consumption’ (cf. 21, 32 Gn xwarisn i mardöm i ajgahän xwaréd az abäarönih ud adädestänih xwaréd ‘that food which the idle man consumes, he consumes through sin and injustice’); 2, 33 dräyän-jöyisnih lit. ‘the condition of having chattering chewing’, i.e. ‘speaking while eating’; 2, 157 (haméw-ud-)haméw-rawisnih ‘the state of having always currency, eternity’; 2, 69 östigän-göwisnih ‘the condition of having reliable speech, trustworthiness’, cf. 2, 6; 5, 4; PYV Gl. p. 104 räst-göwisn ‘of true speech, truthful’; 59, 7 xwurdag-nigerisnih (Skr. süksmaniriksanä-) ‘the quality of

having a regard for trivialities, pedantry, perfectionism’. The second category comprises abstracts from dependent determinative compounds, mostly adjectival, of the type ‘all-seeingness’!!. In Man. MP both old adjectives are found, e.g. myzdgt’c ‘messenger’ (lit. ‘good-news-hastener’) and “yh ‘messengership’, whence ‘(good) news’, tnygyrd ‘corporeal’ and “yh ‘corporeality’!?, and seemingly new, Manichaean coinings, e.g. d’rgyrdyh ‘crucifixion’ (from *d’rgyrd ‘done on the wood, put on the cross’), rw ncyn ‘soul-gathering’ and °yh ‘gathering of souls’, xrw(h)xw’n ‘preacher’, lit. ‘cry-caller’, and_°yh ‘preaching’. So too in Pahlavi: MX 15, 20 jadag-gowih ‘intercession, advocacy’, from 33, 11 jadaggow ‘advocate’, lit. ‘speaking the part (of a client)’; 57, 2 kar-dgahih ‘competence, skill’, from 23, 5 kär-ägäh ‘competent’, lit. ‘knowing about the work’.

To this class also belong: 57, 11 Gb-hanjih ‘the act of water-drawing’!, 2, 93 déw-ézagih ‘devil-worship’, 42, 12 marddm-zddagih ‘humanity’, lit. ‘being a child of man’, 36, 13 nigah-darih ‘keeping, care’, from *nigähdar ‘keeping watch’,

59, 9 wad-xwähih

‘malevolence’,

2, 90 xwestan-

esnäsih ‘self-cognizance’. Much less common are determinatives formed directly with an abstract as second element, e.g. 13 drö-dädwarih ‘corrupt (lit. of lying) judgement’, 38, 2, 6 kunisn-arzänigih ‘worthiness of action’.

128

DAVID N. MACKENZIE

When a corresponding adjective is known, as with tan-drust ‘healthy’ and 2, 82, etc. tan-drustih ‘body-haleness, health’, it is hard to say whether the abstract is so formed, and the adjective from it, or

conversely is derived from the adjective ‘body-hale’: compare German Menschenfreundlichkeit ‘philantrophy’—i.e. m°freundlich + -keit, or M°-Freundlichkeit? A special and numerous class in Pahlavi of abstracts formed from nominal determinatives comprises those ending in -tär/-dar agent nouns. It is unknown in Man. MP. In MX we find: 2, 80 äzädıhkardarih ‘the expression of gratitude’, from @ kardan ‘to make (clear the) nobility (of the giver), 2, 85 bim-nimudarih ‘the quality of showing respect (lit. awe)’, 2, 115 duskam-kardarih ‘malevolence’, lit. ‘ill-willdoer-ness’, 24, 2 kirbag-warzidarih ‘being a performer of good deeds’, 2, 85 nek-dästärıh ‘being one who maintains well, good maintenance’, 51, 3 ruwän-böxtärih ‘the quality of soul-saving’, 2, 77 sög-dädärih ‘being a (guardianships) as a guardian’ (cf. 37, 14 ke sturih rayénéd ‘who arranges guardianships’), 2, 84 sud-xwästärih ‘being a seeker of profit (for others)’. When the verb concerned is intransitive, the compound seems rather to have been formed from the abstract of the agent noun,

e.g. 70 kär-raftärih ‘the being current, going forward of work’. In many cases the abstract in -1/därih is practically equivalent to an infinitive, e.g. 15, 14; 56, 7 pänagih-kardärih ‘being a maker of protection’ is much the same as pänagih kardan ‘protecting’. Compare further 57, 20 wes-awis-madarih ‘the more coming to him (of wisdom)’, 27, 2 nekih-awis-madärih ‘goodness coming to one’, with 2, 90 andzarmihawis-né-madan ‘dishonour not coming to one’. This type of abstract is particularly productive of open phrasal compounds, such as 2, 77 hamahl-6-xwés-kardarih ‘making (one’s) comrades into one’s own (adherents)’, 2, 86 xwestan-kem-ranj-dästärih ‘keeping oneself with little trouble’. When the second element of the determinative compound is a verbal noun in -isn there seems to be no need for the abstract ending -ih. Since GB 44, 15; 94, 1; 216, 11 bun-dahisn means literally ‘the creation of/at the foundation’, what need is there of bun-dahisnih with the same general meaning of ‘primal creation’? But in fact such ‘double abstracts’ are much more common than the simple compounds, e.g. 2, 135 parag-stanisnih ‘bribe-taking(ness)’, 2, 93 f. uzdes-paristisnih ‘idol-worshipping(ness)’, 62, 35 zöhr-rezisnih ‘libation-pouring(ness)’. The rot may have set in with pairs like *spas-göwisn ‘thanksgiving (lit. -speak-

PAHLAVI COMPOUND ABSTRACTS

129

ing) and an identical bahuvrihi ‘having expression of thanks, one who expresses

thanks’,

with the attested

abstract

2, 80 späs-göwisnih

‘the

quality of expressing thanks’. By confusion the abstract determinatives would then have adopted the final -h superfluously. As a further development even determinatives with a non-verbal noun as second element could also take this ending, e.g. 8, 25 frazam-karih, for *frazam-kar, ‘action at the end, final act (of the restoration of the world)’. Alternatively the confusion may have arisen from bahuvrihis such as PYV 34, 9; 45, 4 bowandag-menisn ‘having perfect thinking’, and the resulting abstract MX 2, 68, etc. bowandag-menisnih ‘the quality of having perfect thinking’, against an original descriptive compound *bowandag-menisn ‘perfect-thinking’. Other abstracts of this sort are: 59, 10 abärön-dranjisnih ‘the quality of having sinful speech’ (or, ‘sinfulspeaking(ness)’?), 2, 75 xüb-dranjisnih ‘the quality of having good speech’ (or, ‘well-speaking(ness)’?), 2, 35 wisad-dwarisnih ‘the state of having “open running” (i.e. going about without a tied kustig) (or, ‘open-running(ness) ?). When the second element is adjectival it is again impossible to say which came first, the abstract, e.g. 2, 43 fräröntuxsägih ‘righteous-endeavour’, or an adjective *fraron-tuxsag ‘righteously-diligent’, unless the precedence of the abstract is made certain by its being turned into a bahuvrihi itself, e.g. 7, 14 purr-nékih ‘enjoying complete goodness’ (beside purr-ramisn ‘enjoying complete joy’), 2, 149 was-anagih ‘having much evilness’. The final stage of the superfluous use of the abstract ending -ih came when the writers of Pahlavi (but not generally of Man. MP)!* added it to simple abstract nouns, as in margih ‘death(ness)’, xesmih ‘anger(ness)’. There are several possible explanations of this. It may have come about by their anticipating Nyberg in splitting compounds wrongly, though no obvious example offers itself. It may have been by analogy, as *frazam-kar : frazam-karih :: marg : *margih, or by simple transference, e.g. from zindagih ‘life’ to marg-ih ‘death’. At any rate, its non-existence in later Persian (with the rarest exceptions) betrays its unreality.

NOTES 1 The Parthian inscriptions provide syrkmkpy, v. fn. 9. 2 Pahlavi Yasha and Visperad, ed. B.N. Dhabhar, Bombay 1949; abbreviated PYV. 3 London

1971, p. ix.

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DAVID N. MACKENZIE

4 R.C. Zaehner, Zurvan, a Zoroastrian dilemma, Oxford

5 H.S. Nyberg,

1955.

A manual of Pahlavi I Texts, II Glossary. Wiesbaden

1964-74.

6 In the Dädestän i Menög 7 Xrad, ed. E.W. West, Stuttgart and London

1871, and

T.D. Anklesaria, Bombay 1913: v. Nyberg, Manual I, p. XVIII. Abbreviated MX. 7 There is no evidence of a majhil vowel & in any archaic dialect of Persian, such as Tajiki, or in such related languages as Kurdishor Balochi, to support Nyberg’s transcription of the abstract morpheme as -éh. Its etymology, < *-iya-Owa-, is enough to guarantee the pronunciation MP -ih, as NP -r. 8 Manual Il, p. 281.

° As in other Middle and New Iranian languages, e.g. Parth. Man. syr-g mg ‘benevolent, friend’: Inscr. $yrkmkpy [Sirgämagif] ‘friendship’; Khwarezmian ‘stnb-m'n ‘proud’, lit. ‘big-minded’ : stnbm’n’wk ‘pride’, ywz’d-bxt = NP nek-baxt : ywz’dbxt'wk ‘fortunateness’. 10 PT = Pahlavi texts, ed. J.M. Jamasp-Asana, Bombay 1897. Further examples are taken from AW = Arda Wiraz namag, ed. Ph. Gignoux, Paris 1984, and F. Vahman, London and Malmö

1986; DkM = Dénkard, ed. D.M. Madan, Bombay 1911; GB = Greater

Bundahisn, ed. (TD,) B.T. Anklesaria, Bombay 1908. 11 Descriptive determinative compounds like ‘everlastingness’, or NP xus-bini ‘optimism’, are practically unattested. 12 Similarly Parth. wdysn’s ‘ignorant’ and wdysn’sgyft; Khwar. pcy’m-frk = NP payyambar and pcy mßrk'wk ‘prophethood’, zrny-rysyk ‘wk ‘gold(-thread)-spinner-hood’. 13 V. “Some Pahlavi plums”, Orientalia J. Duchesne-Guillemin emerito oblata (Acta Iranica 23), Liège 1984, p. 390 ff.

14 dws’rm = dws'rmyh ‘love’, of uncertain etymology (< *dausa-drama-?), may be an example. margih does occur once in an unpublished Man. text, M 5750 R I Sf. 'ws'n k’zmn y mrgyh rsyd ‘when the time of their death arrives’. It also lives on, or was coined again, in the uncommon NP margi, meaning ‘death’ but more generally ‘mortality, pestilence’ (e.g. margi-yi gäv = gäv-margi ‘cattle-plague, rinderpest’). The Slovar’ tadzikskogo jazyka, ed.

M.S. Sukurov et al., Moscow 1969, quotes the history of India by Firista (ca. 1610 A.D., Storey no. 617): änhä ba ittifaq guftand ki röz ba röz bémari wa margi istidäd meyabad ‘they said with one accord that sickness and mortality were daily gaining in severity’. A dozen earlier examples are quoted in Ali Akbar Dihxuda’s Luyat-näma, vol. M, 215.

WILFERD

MADELUNG

ABU YA‘QUB AL-SIJISTANI AND METEMPSYCHOSIS In his book on India, al-Birüni, after describing Hindu beliefs in the

transmigration of souls, states that Abi Ya‘qub al-Sijzi, known as Cottonseed (khayshafuj)', maintained in his book Kashf al-mahjüb that metempsychosis occurs only within each species. This was in contrast to the view of Pythagoras and Plato who, according to John Philoponus, had held that human rational souls could transmigrate to the bodies of animals?. That Abu Ya‘qub al-Sijistäni, the Isma‘ïli da7 of the early Fatimid age*, taught metempsychosis, is confirmed by the later Isma‘ïli missionary Näsir-i Khusraw in two of his works. In his Zäd al-musäfirin, Nasir speaks of those who believe that reward and punishment take place on earth. The Hindus, he states, uphold this doctrine and many of them kill or burn themselves in the hope that they would return to a better life. Abu Ya‘qub al-Sijzi likewise talked in this sense at a time when he suffered from melancholy and called the followers of the Legitimate House (Isma‘ilis) to this doctrine in his books entitled Sus al-bagä’, Kashf al-mahjüb, al-Risäla al-Bähira, and others. When the lord of the time (imam) learned of his teaching, he disapproved of it and said that melancholy has overcome him. Yet a group of the (Isma‘il1) Shr’a still cling to his mistaken views*. More explicit are Nasir’s statements in his Khwan al-ikhwan. He discusses Abu Ya‘qub’s views on metempsychosis there in the context of various opinions about barzakh (lit. border, partition). Qur’an XXIII.100 says of the dead: “beyond them there is a border (barzakh) until the day when they will be resuscitated (yub‘athin).” Barzakh was thus commonly understood to mean the place or state of the dead before the Last Judgment, reward and punishment >. Nasir explains that for the exoterics (ahl al-zähir), i.e., the orthodox Muslims, who do not distinguish sharply between body and soul, barzakh consists in the grave where man is subject to the torment of the grave (‘adhab-i gabr) and the questioning by the angels Munkar and Nakir®. In regard to the Ismä‘ïli esoterics, for whom

the soul is the essential part of man, Nasir

first mentions the views of Muhammad b. Ahmad al-Nasafı (Nakhshabi, d. 332/943), the initiator of the classical Isma‘Ili cosmology and teacher of Abu Ya‘qub. Al-Nasafi described barzakh as a fine light

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WILFERD MADELUNG

(nüri latif) located beyond the outermost sphere (falak al-afläk) which is neither in motion nor at rest. Whereas the upper part of this light 1s fine and connected to the Universal Soul (Nafs-i kull), the lower part is dense and coarse (sitabr) and is connectedto the (outer) sphere. Each soul which acquires any kind of knowledge is prevented by it from becoming nothing and is made permanent. If that knowledge was religious, the soul has been educated by action in accordance with the shari’a and abstention from sin. When it is separated from the body, it

passes by the spheres and heavenly bodies to that light and comes to rest on the side of it which is connected to the Universal Soul. The souls of those who have done evil and deserve punishment come to rest on the side which is connected to the sphere’. In his Kitab al-Mahsül alNasafı affirmed that the physical world would be annihilated at the end. He did not, Näsir adds, teach metempsychosis and the transfer of the soul from body to body®. Al-Nasafi presumably held that after the advent of the Qaim and his ultimate rise to the spiritual world the souls of the faithful would rise with him and find their permanent resting place and reward with the Universal Soul near the Intellect, while the souls of the evil would be annihilated together with the physical world. Nasir next mentions Dihqan, the son of al-Nasafi and chief of the da‘wa of the province of Khurasan® after Abu Ya‘qub. Dihqan taught that barzakh was the natural soul (nafs-i tabi7) and that the human soul, so long as it was tied to the natural world, could not escape from barzakh and rise above the natures. He did not mention anything like his father’s doctrine about barzakh and accused Abu Ya‘qub of being an advocate of metempsychosis (tanasukhi)!°. In view of his denunciation of tanäsukh, Dihqan’s doctrine must be understood

to mean

that

man during his lifetime could free himself through gnosis from the fetters of nature. Perhaps in reaction to Abu Ya‘qib’s radical views, he seems to have avoided the question of what would happen to the souls of either the faithful or the wicked after death before the advent of the Qa’im. Would the souls of the gnostics be released from their bodies but fail to reach their final destination in the spiritual world, while the souls of the evil would remain tied to their dead bodies? Or did Dihqan agree with his father’s view without expressly endorsing it? His brother Hasan Mas’üd, in any case, upheld the father’s doctrine about the light beyond the outer sphere!?. After reporting some more, anonymous views, Nasir turns to Abu Ya‘qub. In one place the latter defined barzakh as the religious laws of ’

SIJISTANI AND METEMPSYCHOSIS

133

the prophets, calling the prophets lords of the cycle of concealment (khudawandan-i dawr-i satr) and the Qa’im lord of the cycle of disclosure (khudäwand-i dawr-i kashf). He also referred to the Qa’im as lord of the great aeon (kawr-i ‘azim)!? and spoke, without sense and proof, about the time before Adam and the time after the Qa’im which would be like it. He said that the instructional souls (nafshä-yi ta‘limi) came to dwell in the physical world through the power of divine support (ta’yid) of the prophets and that through the power of the lord of the great aeon!? they would become spiritual (rahani). In another place Abu Ya‘qub defined barzakh as the persons of men (shakhshä-yi mardom) and said that the souls come into the persons in this world until the advent of the lord of the resurrection (khudäwand-i giyamat), i.e., the Qa’im. At that time every soul which had done good would reach divine support and rise to the world of the Intellect (‘alam-i ‘agli) which is paradise and each soul which had done evil would fail to receive divine support and remain in the physical world which is hell. Nasir adds that Abt Ya‘qub said many good and agreeable things, but what he said in support of tanäsukh could not be approved by reasonable men +. Further on in the same chapter, Nasir, like al-Biruni, compares Abu Ya‘qub’s doctrine of tandsukh with Plato’s!>. The subject of barzakh with its potential implication of tanäsukh was evidently controversial in the time of Nasir, for he states that he wrote a book entitled Kitab al-misbäh on it at the order of the Imam al-Mustansir Bi’llah !®. In the next chapter, Nasir comes back to Plato’s views. According to Plato’s books, human souls after their separation from the body return to animal bodies, lions, donkeys, and cows according to their nature. Some of Plato’s disciples, however, said that he did not mean

tandsukh

by this but was speaking in allusions and similitudes. According to some he held that the soul of each species could return only to its appropriate body and that the souls of the wicked would become demons. According to others he did not mean by the bodies to which the souls would return the coarse bodies (of the physical world) but rather (immaterial) bodies engendered by the coarse bodies and the actions of the soul in which they would remain forever. About the hereafter, Plato taught that the evil souls were unable to leave the physical world because the soul needed the instrument of the body to become subtle and pure. The reward consisted in the soul becoming a substance like the intellect, for the soul is potentially intellect and at that time actually becomes

intellect and returns

to the divine world.

Nasir then contrasts Abu Ya‘qib’s view with Plato’s. Some people said

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WILFERD MADELUNG

that Abu Ya‘qib does not mention an abode for the soul outside this coarse world. This, Nasir comments, is indeed evident in Abu Ya‘qub’s elaborations in his Kashf al-mahjub. A group of his disciples, however, who claimed to know his true doctrine, said that according to him the soul, when it had become pure, would return to the higher world and

remain there forever!”. Both W. Ivanow and H. Corbin, apparently unaware of the testimony of al-Birüni, have maintained that Abu Ya‘qüb did not really teach metempsychosis. Ivanow suggested that Näsir, who also accused the orthodox Muslims of tanäsukh'#, meant by this term no more than the dogma of “resurrection in flesh. Nasir did not make this clear in order that his book should not seem outrageous to the orthodox !?.” Corbin accepted Ivanow’s suggestion but offered a more qualified assessment of Abü Ya‘qub’s views. While he noted that Abu Ya‘qub in the extant Persian version of Kashf al-mahjüb expressly rejected tandsukh, he admitted that there were sections in it which could be seen to support the idea of a resurrectio carnis. The word of those of his

disciples who claimed to know the secret of his doctrine should be trusted. Corbin raised the question of how a resurrection of the flesh could be integrated in Abu Ya‘qub’s general cosmological views. Did it imply, besides the spiritual resurrection, a gradual refinement and sublimation of matter itself as envisaged in some Isma‘ili gnostic thought?°? Was Abu Ya‘qub’s “world of the Resurrection” the higher world to which his disciples referred? Or was it rather the future “cycle of disclosure” in this world mentioned repeatedly in Kashf al-mahjub? Corbin concluded that a clear and definite answer to these questions could not yet be given??. The examination of Abu Ya‘qub’s controversial views is hampered by the partial loss of his relevant works. The Kitab Sus al-bagä’ is not extant. The Risäla al-Bahira is available in manuscript. “Reading through its pages,” Ivanow stated, “one fails to discover any traces of tanäsukh??.” The Kashf al-mahjub is extant in a Persian translation which is, as shown by S.M. Stern, incomplete?*. The translation was probably, as suggested by S. Nafisi, by Näsir-i Khusraw2* who could well have omitted some passages more overtly supporting metempsychosis. Yet there is no reason to doubt that what remains reflects Abu Ya’qub’s thought faithfully enough. A careful reading may thus reveal the basis of the accusations against Abi Ya‘qub of having taught tanäsukh.

SIJISTANI AND METEMPSYCHOSIS

In Chapter

5, 3rd Inquiry, Abu

Ya‘qub,

135

as noted by Corbin,

ex-

pressly repudiates tandsukh. He gives the term, however, the narrow meaning of transmigration of the human soul to an animal body. What he indignantly rejects is the mingling of species (ämikhtan-i anwä‘ ba yak digar). In no way does he deny the possibility of a return of the human soul to earth in a human body. This closely tallies with alBiruni’s statement that Abu Ya’qüb in his Kashf al-mahjüb taught “that the species are preserved (al-anwä‘ mahfüza) and that tandsukh occurred in each one of them without transgressing to another species.” There is no

reason

to assume

that

he later

uses

the

term

tandsukh,

when

denouncing it as the doctrine of the incapable and ignorant?5, in a different sense. Abu Ya‘qub’s views on the destiny of the human soul become clear in Chapter 6, concerning ba‘th (bar angikhtan). For orthodox Muslims the terms ba‘th and giyäma are virtually synonymous, meaning the Resurrection of the dead for the Judgment as the end of the terrestrial world. The Isma‘ili gnostic Abu Ya‘qub, here and in other works, clearly distinguishes between the two. Qiyama means for him the imminent advent of the Qa’im, or rather his return in glory?°, in order to open the cycle of disclosure. Ba‘th, in contrast, does not refer to a single event in time. Rather it means the resuscitation or rebirth of the individual soul through, or in the course of, gnosis. In order to maintain the distinction, only giyama will be translated here as resurrection and ba‘th as resuscitation or rebirth?’. In Chapter 6 of Kashf al-mahjüb Abu Ya‘qub describes ba‘th at times as a Spiritual rebirth during life and at times as a physical rebirth of the dead. The latter sense is, as noted by Corbin?®, particularly evident in the Second and Third Inquiry. In the Second Inquiry he argues against a ba‘th in large number as implied in the orthodox belief of a universal Resurrection. If the people of all past cycles were to be resuscitated at one time, the whole earth would

be used up to restore their bodies,

since an increase of the earth by God would not be proper. Where would this mass of people dwell then? Abu Ya‘qub affirms that infants and insane people lacking a sound mind are not reborn because they do not deserve a recompense for their acts. Likewise it would be incompatible with the wisdom and mercy of the Creator to resuscitate blacks, Turks, and the people of Sind living at the extremities of the earth who have not acquired any knowledge or (religious) work and thus do not merit either reward or punishment. At the same time Abu Ya’qub

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WILFERD MADELUNG

implies that the resuscitation of those who deserve it does not take place at a single time. In the Third Inquiry Abi Ya‘qub affirms that knowledge of the rebirth remains veiled to the individual soul. This means both that it loses the knowledge it had acquired in its previous physical figure and that it has no knowledge of its future state after rebirth. When the soul is separated from the human figure (shakhs), its gnostic knowledge (ma rifathä) is deposited in a place beyond its reach. Since every age and time has different principles and derived rules of knowledge, the previous knowledge would in fact be an obstacle for the soul if it became mixed up with its new knowledge appropriate for its time. If, on the other hand, knowledge of its state after rebirth were not veiled from

the soul, it would

lose its incentive

to acquire

knowledge

and

good work since there would be no room for either hope or fear. In the Fourth Inquiry, on ba‘th consisting in the training (riyädat) of the soul, ba‘th is at first described as a purely spiritual rebirth within life. Through the teaching of a gnostic teacher the soul may be transformed to such a degree that someone having met a person before would imagine him to be a different person. Abu Ya‘qub insists that this resuscitation is an ennoblement of the soul rather than the body. In the last section,

however,

he asks:

If it is possible

for someone

to

acquire such a refined soul even in his original body, how much more

will it be possible for him, after becoming joined to a body more balanced, more

remote from evil, and closer to, good, to pursue more

intense training and to acquire further refinement??? The Fifth Inquiry is entitled: That through resuscitation the unfortunate may become fortunate and the fortunate may become unfortunate. The cause of misfortune is that someone learns from a misguided and deviant teacher. Afterwards, however, he may find an intelligent and ascetic gnostic who will direct him to the right path and teach him to do good acts. When his soul is separated from his body and the time comes for his rebirth, great happiness (sa‘Gdathd-yi ‘azim) will reach his soul as a reward for his good effort. Likewise someone fortunate may turn negligent in observing the knowledge which he has been given and be deceived by a deviant teacher. After his soul becomes separated from his body, that misfortune which his soul deserves for his negligence and

carelessness will attach itself to it and become the cause of his punishment. Abu Ya‘qub then mentions the case of someone having died after incurring good or evil seven thousand years ago or some other lengthy time ago and asks whether his reward or punishment which he deserved

SIJISTANI AND METEMPSYCHOSIS

12377

would have reached him or not? If not there would not be either reward or punishment. But if their recompense has reached them, their resuscitation must already have occurred3°. How indeed could it be otherwise and be compatible with reason? Abü Ya‘qub here evidently rejects the orthodox belief in a universal Resurrection at the end of the world. The rebirth for the recompense occurs soon after death. In the Sixth Inquiry, ba‘th again appears as a purely spiritual awakening. This may occur after a short or a long time, depending on whether the disciple seeking the true path finds a guiding teacher quickly or not, and whether the deviant pupil finds someone who aids him in his aberrancy. A gnostic in possession of the subtle and obscure knowledge may also be miserly with it and refuse to impart it to anyone unless he finds him fully deserving. God knows mysteries in regard to the rebirth which are veiled from the creatures of the world, and its

economy is in His hand just like their return, their reward and punishment. In the last, Seventh Inquiry, Abu Ya‘qub argues that good acts, both intellectual and those in accordance with the religious law, contribute to

the maintenance of the order of the world and thus benefit those who will be reborn in the remaining cycles, while acts contrary to reason and the law harm them. The happiness and peace which derive from doing good acts as well as the grief and anxiety which are engendered by doing evil acts are not from this world but from the other, since if they were from this world the wicked would have more reason to be happy and at peace, and the good would more likely be grieved and anxious. That other world, Abu Ya‘qub affirms in conclusion, is the promise of

rebirth (wa‘da-yi bar angikhtan). | Näsir-i Khusraw was evidently right in charging that Abu Ya’qub in his Kashf al-mahjub did not mention a permanent abode of the soul outside this world. Even the Place of Return (ma‘ad), the hereafter, is dissolved into the promise of rebirth on earth. The role of the Qa’im, the lord of the Resurrection, is also described in entirely worldly terms. He will guide the faithful to the knowledge of the Kingdom of God, revealing the truths which were hidden in the scriptures and laws of the prophets of the era of concealment. The opponents will either voluntarily join the religion of God or will be killed by the Qä’im. The human souls, which in the era of concealment were as if ill, will be healthy in the era of disclosure inaugurated by the lord of the Resurrection*!. The other role of the Qä’im in common Isma‘ili teaching, that of the last judge who assigns men to their permanent abode in the hereafter, is not

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WILFERD MADELUNG

mentioned. Abi Ya‘qib’s view of sacred history as an era of disclosure preceding Adam, the initiator of the era of concealment, and another era of disclosure following the advent of the Qä’im could easily be expanded into a cyclical sequence of innumerable eras of disclosure and concealment as envisaged in later Tayyibi Isma‘ili gnosis #2. Those disciples of Abi Ya‘qub who maintained that according to his true doctrine the purified soul would ultimately return to the higher world and dwell there permanently evidently based their claim on his teaching in other works. They may not have been entirely mistaken in thus interpreting his Kashf al-mahjüb. It is difficult to see how Abu Ya‘qub, basically adhering to a Neoplatonic concept of the world in which the individual human souls were part of the Universal Soul, could ever have envisaged a permanent chain of reincarnations without a final return to their spiritual home?%. In his a/-Risäla al-Bähira Abu Ya‘qub describes the end of the chain of rebirths in a final judgment sentencing the souls to a permanent state of reward or punishment. The al-Risdla al-Bahira is addressed to an anonymous ‘Alid in reply to a question about the reality of the Greatest Resurrection (giyäma kubrä). Abu Ya‘qub insists that the Resurrection is brought about by spiritual (nafsänt) rather than physical (tabi‘7) influences and changes. God will not annihilate the physical structure and order of the world and sit in judgment over man as the orthodox Muslims and other religious groups believe. Rather the Qa’im, the Pure Soul, will through his presence turn the evil influences of the heavenly spheres and bodies, which will be dominant in the time preceding his advent, into beneficial influences. Through him the virtues, gnostic knowledge, and emanations of the Universal Intellect will engulf the faithful of all cycles and aeons (adwar wa akwar) who thus will reach their reward, while the souls of the opponents who fail to accept his light will have no abode but the fire. The question arises of how the souls of all the bygone ages reach their state of reward or punishment at that time. Abu Ya’qüb explains that this is a matter difficult to understand except for someone with a pure soul used to grasping spiritual matters. The answer lies in the recognition of the meaning of barzakh as referred to in Qur’an XXIII 100. Knowledge of the barzakhs consists in the realization that the world is at all times filled with souls united to persons and life. When the world is emptied of some persons others like them take their place. The one who replaces will have the same form as the one who passes away (yakün al-mustakhlaf sürata al-mungarid), for we find the speech,

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139

intercourse, sciences, political conduct, professions, and crafts of those

who are in the world today to be what they were endowed with from those who passed away (ma ulbisühu min al-mungaridin). ‘“Thus these have become the barzakhs of those who passed away, and the souls are only what they bequeathed to them (/aysat al-anfus illä ma awrathuhum). Thus there arise for each group of righteous and offenders errants and rightly guided, others who take their place after them and who will bequeath what they inherited from those who passed away to those after them, so that reward and punishment shall reach the souls

having acquired good and evil who remain continuously (mawsülat alhibal) until the rise of the Greatest Resurrection. At that time all will be gathered and whatever each deserves will amply be bestowed upon them.” Abu Ya‘qub adds that he will not fully elaborate the discourse on this law (qdnin) relying on the subtlety of the understanding, the sharpness of the mind, and the lofty aspiration of his partner. The doctrine of metempsychosis expounded in the a/-Risala al-Bahira with its identification of barzakh with the human persons in successive generations tallies closely with the second view ascribed to Abu Ya‘qub by Nasir-i Khusraw. There can be little doubt that the “other place” referred to by Nasir is in fact the Risäala®*. The ideas of the Kashf almahjub seem to correspond more to Abu Ya‘qub’s first view described by Nasir. However, some details, especially the identification of barzakh with the religious laws of the prophets, are missing. Unless they were omitted in the translation, it would seem that Nasir is describing in the first view the doctrine of the lost Sas al-baqa’. Abu Ya‘qub’s teaching of metempsychosis represented a passing phase in his career. He had begun his involvement with Isma‘ili thought as a disciple of al-Nasafi, and perhaps his first work, most likely written still in the lifetime of his teacher, was his Kitab al-Nusra in which he defended al-Nasafi’s teaching against the criticism of Abu Hatim alRazi. After al-Nasafi’s death his own thought appears to have developed along more independent lines and he soon came into conflict with the followers of the school of al-Nasafi. Abu I-Qasim al-Busti reports that a great controversy arose among the Isma‘ilis of Khurasan. While al-Nasafi and his followers held that the da‘wa should concern itself with the soul, the prophetic cycles, and the problems of creation, Abu Ya‘qub asserted that the da‘wa must begin with the sharia and its esoteric interpretation (ta’wil)?°. Nasir’s report about the quarrel about tanasukh shows that the controversy was not, as Stern suggested,

entirely concerned

with missionary

tactics but had also a dogmatic

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WILFERD MADELUNG

dimension. This conflict most likely occurred in the decade or two after al-Nasafi’s death. In his later works, when he adhered to the Fatimid da‘wa, Abt Ya‘qub did not endorse metempsychosis. Official Fatimid doctrine always seems to have disapproved of that idea. Yet Abu Ya‘qüb apparently never clearly repudiated his earlier teaching. The question of barzakh, the fate of the soul before the advent of the Qaim, remained unresolved in his later works. In his Kitab al-Iftikhär, for instance, Abu Ya‘qub describes the Resurrection as the advent of the Qä’im who will judge all souls in the name of God and sentence them to their permanent abode of reward or punishment. The physical world, he again insists, will not be changed or annihilated, as the exoterics hold. The Qur’anic passages which apparently describe the destruction of the physical world must be understood as referring to spiritual events. In the discussion of ba'th, Abu Ya‘qüb becomes entangled in ambiguities. He mocks the belief of the orthodox that God will restore the flesh and bones of the dead and their expectation that all the dead will be restored to life at the same time after the annihilation of the earth. Could it not be, he asks them,

that the resuscitation has occurred many times while you were not aware of it? As in his Kashf al-mahjub, he questions how it could be compatible with the justice and wisdom of God to raise someone who died ten years after Adam seven thousand years ago together with the last dead who would remain in earth only a short time. Yet he does not explain why God should restore the life of anyane before the advent of the Qa’im and his judgment. The resuscitation is in some instances clearly described in spiritual terms. If the man to be rewarded or punished were restored with his limbs and shape as he was in his former life he would again be subject to hunger, thirst, illness and death. But reward and punishment are to be permanent. God is surely able to restore man to life in the spiritual world without his disintegrated body yet with the knowledge that he is the same one who was in this world. In other places, however, Abu Ya‘qub envisages a more material rebirth. He compares it to the action of a craftsman or builder who restores his damaged or destroyed work in the same form not from exactly the same, but from similar or even different material. And he

interprets Qur’an II 260 as meaning that God may revive the dead from the same four elements into which their bodies earlier disintegrated 36. Those of Abt Ya‘qub’s followers who were familiar with his Kashf almahjub and al-Risäla al-Bahira could resolve these apparent contradictions without difficulty. Man was subject to repeated rebirths on earth before his judgment by the Qa’im and his rise to the spiritual world. ’

SIJISTANI AND METEMPSYCHOSIS

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In his Kitab al-Magälid, Abu Ya‘qub devotes a chapter (/glid 44) to the refutation of tandsukh. As in Kashf al-mahjüb, however, the supporters of tanäsukh are for him those who teach transmigration of the spirits (arwäh) to all animals. They hold, moreover, that the spirits fell to earth because of a sin which they committed in the other world and that they remain in the terrestrial bodies until they have expiated it37, a doctrine which Abu Ya‘qüb could repudiate without denying any of the views expressed in his earlier works. In another chapter (Iglid 45) he rejects the idea of some astrologers (ahl al-tanjim) that the spirits will return to their bodies in exactly the same conditions as now after a period of some 30,000 years when the heavenly sphere reaches a certain point. He mentions that he refuted their doctrine in detail in his Kitab al-Bishära*®. He identifies ba‘th with the final rise (nash’a äkhira) and argues that it is only spiritual since it will occur suddenly (baghtatan) and physical bodies can grow only gradually. There is no suggestion that any ba'th has already occurred. Yet he admits the rational possibility of a bath of both spirit and body as witnessed in natural generation*°. The reader unacqainted with his earlier works could not find a trace of metempsychosis in his elaborations. For his followers who were familiar with his thought, however, there was nothing which clearly contradicted what he had taught there. The question of the fate of the soul after death and before the final rise is not addressed. There was thus a basis for the survival of a school of Abu Ya‘qub holding on the belief in repeated rebirths on earth before the advent of the Qa’ım in the time of Nasir-i Khusraw. The official Fatimid da‘wa considered the matter evidently as serious enough to commission Nasir with writing a refutation.

L

NOTES 1 Concerning this nickname see S.M. Stern, “Arabo-Persica,” in W.B. Memorial Volume, ed. M. Boyce and I. Gershevitch, London, 1970, pp. 415-16.

Henning

2 Al-Birüni, Kitab Ma li’l-Hind, ed. E. Sachau, Berlin, 1887, p. 32. 3 For his life see in particular S.M. Stern, “The Early Ismä’lli Missionaries in NorthWest Persia and in Khuräsän and Transoxania”, BSOAS XXIII, 1960, pp. 68-70, 80-81; I.K. Poonawala, “Al-Sijistänı and his Kitab al-Magalıd,” in Essays on Islamic Civilization Presented to Niyazi Berkes, ed. D.P. Little, Leiden, 1976, pp. 274-76, and idem, Biobibliography of Ismä’lli Literature, Malibu, 1977, pp. 82-83. On the basis of references to

the Fatimid caliph al-Hakim in two works ascribed to Abu Ya‘qub, Poonawala suggests that he was killed after 386/996. Since Abi Ya‘qub himself mentions having made the pilgrimage to Mecca in 322/934, he would have reached a high age, if the references to alHakim are not later additions. P. Walker informs me that one of the two works, the Kitab al-mawazin, is definitely inauthentic in its extant form. 4 Näsir-i Khusraw, Zäd al-musäfirin, ed. Muhammad Badhl al-Rahman, Berlin, 1341/ 1923, pp. 421-22.

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5 See B. Carra de Vaux, ‘“Barzakh,” in E./., 2nd ed. 6 Näsir-i Khusraw, Khwän al-ikhwän, ed. Qawim, Tehran, 1338sh/1959, p. 133.

7 Abu Ya‘qub’s Kitab al-Magälid contains a chapter (/qlid 43) entitled: “That man’s imagining of the (Universal) Soul being higher than the (heavenly) sphere and the (Universal) Intellect being higher than the Soul like the water is above the earth and the air is above the water is false.” He argues there that the Soul is spiritual and thus cannot spatially surround the sphere. The chapter may well have been intended to be a refutation of al-Nasafi’s concept of barzakh. For the Kitab al-Magälid, a partial photocopy of the unique ms. in the possession of Dr. Abbas Hamdani was available to me through the courtesy of the Institute of Ismaili Studies in London and Mr. J. Badakhshani. A photocopy of the ms. has been presented to the Institute by the owner. For Abi Ya‘qutb’s a/-Risala al-Bahira, a photocopy of the ms. of the Library of the Institute briefly described by A. Gacek, Catalogue of Arabic Manuscripts in the Library of the Institute of Ismaili Studies, Vol. one, London, 1984, p. 94, was used. My thanks are due to the Library of the Institute and Mr. Badakhshani for making these copies available to me. 8 Khwan, pp. 130-31. In the text bi-tanasukh ... güyad must no doubt be read na-güyad. Nasir clearly wants to restrict the accusation of having taught tandsukh among the Isma‘ilis to Abü Ya‘qub. Al-Nasafi’s idea of barzakh does not envisage a return of the soul to earth. Ivanow was misled by the corrupt text into assuming that Nasir considered al-Nasafrs doctrine as also implying tandsukh (Nasir-i Khusraw and Ismailism, Leiden and Bombay, 1948, p. 58; idem, Problems in Näsir-i Khusraw’s Biography, Bombay, 1956, p. 65). Hamid al-Din al-Kirmäni, an opponent of all forms of tandsukh, located the barzakh at “the limit (nihäya) between Paradise and Hell, the highest spot of the world of nature, the surface of the skies (safhat al-samawat)” (al-Kirmani, Rahat al-‘agl, ed. Mustafa Ghalib, Beirut, 1967, p. 538; al-Hamidi, Kanz al-walad, ed. M. Ghalib, Wiesbaden, 1971, p. 161). There the souls of the virtuous and of the wicked would remain until the advent of the Qa’im.

° For the reading Khurasan see Stern, “Missionaries,” p. 80, n. 3. Stern and, following him, Poonawala (Biobibliography, p. 75) identified Dihqan with Hasan (al-)Mas’üd, also mentioned by Nasir and Abu’l-Qäsim al-Busti as a son of al-Nasafı and head of the da‘wa

in Khurasan. It is to be noted, however, that Nasir describes the doctrine of Hasan Mas‘ud on barzakh later in the chapter as identical with that of his father (Khwan, p. 135) in contrast to 19 Khwan, 11 Khwan, 12 Reading 13 Reading

that of Dihqan. The identity of the two must thus remain doubtful. p. 131. p. 135. kawr for gur. kawr-i buzurg for gür-i buzurg. 14 Khwän, pp. 132-33. 15 Khwän, p. 135. 16 Khwän, pp. 132, 136. The book seems to be lost. 17 Khwän, pp. 138-39. 18 Zäd al-musafirin, pp. 420-22, 424. 19 Nasir-i Khusraw and Ismailism, p. 59. 29 Corbin was here presumably thinking of Tayyibi doctrine. See H. Corbin, Trilogie Ismaëlienne, Tehran, 1961, pp. 177-79. 2! Introd. to edition of Abu Ya’qüb al-Sijistani, Kashf al-mahjüb, Tehran and Paris, 1949, pp. 16-18. 22 Näsir-i Khusraw and Ismailism, p. 58. 23 Stern, “Abu’l-Qäsim al-Busti and his Refutation of Isma‘ilism”, JRAS,

24 1965, 25 26

1961, p. 22.

Sad Nafisi, Tarikh-i nazm wa nathr dar Iran dar zabän-i Farsi, Tehran, 1344sh/ I, pp. 28, 59. Kashf, p. 88. The Qä’im was for Abt Ya‘qüb and the contemporary Parsian da‘wa the seventh ’

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Imam Muhammad b. Ismä’ll, who had disappeared almost two centuries before but was expected to reappear to rule the world. See Madelung, “Das Imamat in der frühen ismailitischen Lehre,” Zs/am XXXVII,

1961, pp. 106-09.

*7 The Persian translation preserves the distinction by leaving giyama untranslated (giyamat) while rendering ba‘th by bar angikhtan. Corbin, however, translated both terms as résurrection thus blurring the distinction for the critical reader. He translated bar angikhta as ressussité. Abü Ya’güb Sejestani: Le Dévoilement des choses cachées, transl. H. Corbin, Lagrasse, 1988.

28 Introd. to Kashf, p. 17. 2° Corbin’s translation (pp. 123-24): Or ce que cet homme s’assimile ainsi tourne au profit de son âme subtile, certes, mais pareillement aussi au profit de son corps physique tel qu'il existait au début, seems inaccurate. Abi Ya‘qüb wants to say that the soul can be reborn even while in the same body.

3° The Persian text (p. 91) states the opposite: the time of (their) resuscitation has not yet come. Corbin, however, translates (p. 125): c'est que le moment de leur résurrection est déjà advenu. The context clearly requires this latter translation. It is evident that Abu Ya’qüb’s text has been changed either by the Persian translator or a later copyist because of objections to the implications. 31 Kashf, pp. 81-83. 32 This is not to suggest that the Tayyibi doctrine is derived from Abi Ya‘qub’s thought. The Tayyibis uphold reincarnation on earth, even in animal bodies, only in respect to the wicked as a punishment. They believe in an eventual end of this world. Their doctrine on reincarnation seems to be derived primarily from the a/-Risäla al-Jami‘a of the Ikhwän al-Safa and an anonymous Risälat al-Hayawän in which Qadi al-Nu’man and Hamid al-Din al-Kirmani are quoted. See al-Hamidi, Kanz al-walad, pp. 34-36, 112-

13, 185-89, 300. 33 The ultimate return of the individual souls to the Universal Soul and the Intellect is described

in Abu

Ya’qub’s

Kitab

al-Bisharat.

See

the quotations

in Kanz

al-walad,

pp. 248-64. 34 Nasir’s summary is obviously more explicit than the elusive language used by Abu Ya‘qub and evidently reflects the common interpretation of his school. Abt Ya‘qub does not expressly state that the souls return to the persons in this world but this is clearly implied in his allusion. He does not say that the soul will rise after the Resurrection to the world of the Intellect. Rather he describes the spiritual benefits which the faithful will receive through the Qa’im in this world. They will be joined to him in spiritual companionship and become like one single soul. But he speaks-then of their entering the gardens of Paradise in the vicinity of the Merciful which in Ismaili terms could legitimately be understood as the world of the Intellect. Likewise he does not expressly identify the fire to which those who reject the benefits of the Qaim are condemned with remaining in the physical world. Yet such an interpretation is reasonable enough. Abu Ya’güb’s elusive language obviously misled Ivanow into judging that there was not a trace of tanäsukh in the Risdla. 35 See Stern, “Abu’l-Qäsim al-Busti,” pp. 22-23. 36 Abi Ya‘qub al-Sijistani, Kitab al-Iftikhar, ed. M. Ghalib, Beirut, 1980, pp. 74-91. 37 This doctrine is upheld in the a/-Risäla al-Jami‘a of the Ikhwan al-Safa’ (ed. J. Saliba, Damascus 1368/1949, esp. I, pp. 298-305) where prime matter and form are defined as the barazikh in which the fallen souls remain until the day of the Resurrection (yawm yub‘athan, I p. 300, here in the sense of the ultimate Resurrection) and was later adopted by the Tayyibis (see Kanz al-walad, pp. 34-37, 112-13). Abu Ya’qub may well have had the teaching of the Ikhwan in mind. 38 Presumably the same as his Kitab al-Bishärät of which only some excerpts are extant.

39 Iglid 40.

EZAT O. NEGAHBAN

SILVER VESSEL OF MARLIK WITH GOLD IMPRESSED GOLD DESIGNS

SPOUT AND

In the fall of 1962 an archaeological team from the Iranian Archaeological Service was surveying in northern Iran in the foothills of the Elburz mountains. After the team had been working for more than two weeks and had surveyed many mounds, we entered the valley of the Gohar Rud, a tributary of the Sefid Rud (Map 1). This beautiful valley contained five conspicuous and apparently related mounds, Pileh Qal'a, Jazem Kul, Dure Bejar, Zeinab Bejar and Marlik or Cheragh-Ali Tepe after its last owner. We proceeded to survey these mounds, eventually reaching Marlik, a large natural appearing mound with a rocky crest, surrounded by olive groves and wild pomegranate bushes, and overlooking the rice paddies which blanket the lower slopes of the valley. The surface of Marlik was covered by brush and revealed few artifactual traces, although one slope bore the scars of several ditches dug by unsuccessful antique hunters (Fig. 1). We proceeded to open a test trench on this mound and during two days of excavation found a variety of interesting objects including two small bronze animal figurines, two cylinder seals and fourteen gold buttons. Despite the natural appearance of the mound, the discovery of these objects gave some indication of its possible archaeological importance and pointed to the need for immediate scientific excavation as the site would otherwise have been quickly looted. I returned to Tehran and, as soon as possible, completed the required formalities and organized an excavation which, under the auspices of the Archaeological Service of Iran in cooperation with the Institute of Archaeology of the University of Tehran, continued to work, from October, 1961 to November, 1962.

without

interruption,

As we began our work, we had, of course, little idea of exactly what lay below the surface of the mound. Gradually it became clear that Marlik Tepe contained the royal cemetery of a long forgotten kingdom. Scattered over the crest of the mound were fifty-three tombs (Map II) filled with a fascinating variety of objects of gold, silver, bronze and pottery, testifying to the wealth and sophisticated craftsmanship of this three thousand year old culture. Although the richest tombs were

SILVER VESSEL OF MARLIK

145

located on the top of Marlik mound in the Royal Cemetery, the whole lower valley of the Gohar Rud was essentially a large contemporary burial ground for people of lesser importance, attracted perhaps by the presence of the royal burials. The tombs of Marlik were formed basically of walls of broken stone and mud mortar built between the large natural rocks of the mound. Some of these tombs were very roughly constructed, while others showed more care. For the most part the natural stone of the surrounding area was used for the walls, but for some of the tombs slabs of yellowish stone had been brought from the headwaters of the Gohar Rud, about 15 km. away. This stone might be found only in a single wall or in the form of slabs placed at the bottom of the tomb, but some of the richest tombs were built entirely of this yellowish imported stone. In most of the tombs the skeletons had completely disintegrated, but those few tombs which still contained skeletons revealed an elaborate burial ritual in which the body was carefully laid out on a long slab of stone and surrounded by precious and useful objects which their owner would need in his life hereafter. Whether or not the skeleton still remained, the tombs were filled with a wide variety of objects including ritual vessels, figurines, jewellery, weapons and tools, domestic utensils and sometimes models and toys. The people of Marlik, who left almost no written records, seem to have belonged to that group of Indo-Iranians, possibly Marda or Amarda, who entered Iran and settled along the northern slopes of the Elburz mountains and the southern shores of the Caspian Sea during the second half of the second millennium B.C. They established a strong and flourishing kingdom and, for at least two or three centuries between the fourteenth and tenth centuries B.C., buried their leaders in the Royal Cemetery of Marlik. At the end of this period, they left the area, moving, I believe, to Sialk near Kashan where Sialk Cemetery B (Sialk VI) has produced numerous similar and sometimes identical objects, particular in bronze, which undoubtedly originated from the same culture as the objects of Marlik. Sialk Cemetery B is slightly later than Marlik, belonging to the early first millennium B.C., and it seems likely that under pressure from the west, probably from the Assyrians who made repeated military expeditions in this direction to gather booty and expand their empire, the people of Marlik left their home in the Elburz highlands and migrated east and southeast, settling temporarily at Sialk. Ultimately they were absorbed by the Medes who with other Indo-Iranian tribes formed the powerful Median Empire in the early first millennium B.C.

146

EZAT O. NEGAHBAN

The Royal Cemetery of Marlik remained intact until modern times. During the period that the Marlik people ruled the area they were presumably powerful enough to protect their tombs with their valuable contents. That the tombs of Marlik remained untouched even after the demise of their authors is more unusual. It may be that the migration of these people was so abrupt and catastrophic that no one remained who remembered the tombs and their contents. In any event, the cemetery, containing no monumental or even noticeable architecture and dug into the top of a natural rocky mound which was soon overgrown with weeds and brush, sank into the oblivion in which it remained until the present day when its discovery and careful excavation only now begin to provide our first systematic information about this almost forgotten ancient civilization. Marlik has produced beautiful decorative metal vessels in gold, silver and bronze. The sizes and shapes of these vessels are varied. They include cups, bowls, pots with long spouts, beakers and vases and they range from plain unadorned vessels to ones with highly elaborate, sometimes narrative, designs. The designs occur in a variety of techniques, dotted, linear engraving, low and high relief repousse, while one silver vessel contains inlaid designs in gold. The designs on the Marlik vessels vary from extremely simple and crude patterns to highly elaborate naturalistic or stylized portrayals of real and mythical animals and humans. The Marlik Silver Vessel with Impressed Gold Designs contains some of these real and mythical animals and humans which reveal to us something of their beliefs and their mythology. A silver pot with impressed gold designs, 7.5cm. high, 5 cm. in diameter of the mouth, with an attached gold spout about 8 cm. long, was found in Tomb 50 (Trench XXI L). Although the silver is badly corroded, the pot is intact except for a slightly broken base. The vessel, with a rolled rim, a carinated body and a flat base, exhibits the ‘teapot’ shape of many Marlik vessels. An open gold spout, which curves and swells at its grooved base in a reflection of the head and neck of a crane, is riveted to the silver body. Impressed onto the shoulder and body of the pot are several designs of very thin sheet gold with incised details (Fig. 2). Around the shoulder a single scene is repeated four times, interrupted by the spout and by an elongated almond-shaped projecting knob opposite the spout. This scene consists of a lion carrying its prey in its mouth (Fig. 3). The mane of the lion is indicated by overlapping triangles and the hair on its stomach by rows of short straight parallel

SILVER VESSEL OF MARLIK

147

lines. The rest of its body is plain except for the outlined muscles of the fore and hind legs and for a swastika incised on the hind leg. The prey in the lion’s mouth, possibly a mountain goat or a young calf, with a foreward curving horn and a long tail, has the hair of its body indicated by rows of short straight lines. The

lower

register

of designs,

on

the body

of the pot,

is more

narrative and includes several motifs. A mythical figure has bicephalic lion heads with mouths furiously open, outspread wings, a human upper torso and arms, a lower torso covered by fish scales or feathers and avian legs and feet (Fig. 4). The lion’s mane is covered by crosshatching and the feathers of the outspread wings by herringbone bands, while the twisted torso has both a backbone, as indicated by a curved double.line intersected by straight lines, and breasts, indicated by small circles. Semicircles,

forming either scales or feathers, cover

the lower

torso and the upper part of the legs which, in place of feet, end in prominent spurs and claws. A brief spreading tail, filled with short parallel zigzag lines, curves upward at the base of the back. This mythical creature, repeated twice on each side of the vessel, holds in its open hands, symmetrically on each side of its body, the hand of a smaller sphinx-like figure which combines a human female head, wings and the body of an animal, possibly a lion, with a long curling tail. The long hair of the female head is filled with parallel curving lines; the wing feathers are shown by rows of herringbone patterns; and a band of crosshatching surrounds the body at the chest. One of the sphinx-like creatures wears a projecting cap, or possibly a

crown. Between the two pairs of mythical creatures on each side of the pot is a man carrying an animal on his shoulders. The man wears a round cap, a short sleeved shirt bound tightly around his waist by a thick belt, and a short overlapping skirt with decorative zigzag bands at the edges, which stops above his knees, indicated by concentric semi-circles. The animal he carries has a long curving tail and a cross on its hind leg like that of the lion in the upper register. Below the spout in the final motif of this register, two long necked standing birds face each other (Fig. 5). Encircling the rim of the vessel is a serpentine coil band, while on the bottom a geometric rosette is formed of six oval petals outlined with a double line and bordered by a row of double leaves (Fig. 6). The

elongated curved area between the petals is filled with small circles. Although the pot itself is silver, the attached spout is made of gold. Other examples of similar long-spouted pots made of two different

148

EZAT O. NEGAHBAN

materials have been found in Luristan and in Sialk VI as well as at Khorvin, where some pottery vessels with attached bronze spouts are dated by Ghirshman to the ninth to eighth century B.C.!. Silver vessels with inlaid designs in gold, in a technique similar to this Marlik

vessel, were

found

in the Hasanlu

excavation?

and

also at

Ziwiye*. The Hasanlu vase of silver with impressed gold designs may possibly be contemporary to this Marlik vessel in manufacture. The swastika or broken cross which appears on the hind leg of the lion in the upper register and on the animal being carried in the lower register, has been found on many objects from various sites in the Near East and has a long history in various forms. It appears in such different regions of Western Asia as Egypt, the Eastern Mediterranean shore, Mesopotamia

and Iran, occurring as early as the third millen-

nium B.C.*. As a shoulder or leg ornament it dasht° and Hasanlu® gold bowls, both of which very late second and early first millennium B.C. seen on both the fore and hind legs of a bronze

appears on the Kalarhave been dated to the Swastikas can also be animal figure, possibly

the side of a horse bit, found in Luristan’.

The design of the swastika itself, in free use and not limited to a shoulder or leg decoration, has a much older background. It appears in some beautiful Samarran pottery designs as early as the fifth millennium B.C.®, where it may have developed out of a simple fixed cross by the bending of the end of each radiant, guiding the eye around the turning cross. This design continued in use into the first millennium A.D. A turning cross appears on the leg of a lion on a Post-Sassanian silver plate in the Hermitage Museum, dated to the ninth century

ATP:

|

|

The main design on the lower register of the Marlik vessel, a mythical figure holding symmetrically on each side of his body two subsidiary imaginary figures, also has a long background in the art of the ancient Near East, with characteristic elements varying from period to period. This scene of a master or mistress of animals, with a human or combined imaginary figure standing and subjugating two beasts or holding two sphinxes, usually serves to illustrate a mythical story of a legendary hero. The motif is found as early as the protoliterate period and it became very common in the Mitannean and Middle Assyrian glyptic!®. Later this composition of a master of animals, usually now in a kneeling position, spread as far as Greece, where it illustrates the oriental influence in Greek art.

SILVER VESSEL OF MARLIK

149

An upright human-headed sphinx, wearing a spiral lock of hair and holding two reversed lions, appears on a seal from Saussatar, king of Mitanni

around

1450 B.C.!!.

Althought

the details are different, the

scene compostion on this seal is similar to the design on the Marlik pot. A cylinder seal assigned to the time of Eriba-Adad, king of Assyria around 1412-1405 B.C., has a scene of a winged double-headed lion holding symmetrically two griffins upside down!2. A similar scene occurs on a seal identified by Moortgat as Assyrian of the time of Tukulti Ninurta I, about 1260-1115 B.C.!3. A gold cup found in western Iran and assigned by Porada to the thirteenth to tenth century B.C. has a somewhat similar scene of a monster holding symmetrically two animals!*. This type of design is also found later on during the first millennium B.C. A winged lion with a single head holding symmetrically two griffins appears on a tablet fragment found in Nippur, dated around 650 B.C.!°, while an Achaemenid cylinder seal shows a man holding two lions upside down as he stands on the back of two opposing sphinxes!$, and similar scenes occur in eighth century B.C. North Syrian, Greek and Phrygian art!7. A rampant winged lion holding symmetrically two beasts in heraldic posture appears on a gold beaker in the Cincinnati Art Museum which, if authentic, apparently comes from a clandestine excavation in the region of Gilan or Mazanderan in northern Iran. This gold beaker has been dated by Goldman to the early first millennium B.C.!®. Finally, a double-headed lion-bodied monster with human arms and the wings and talons of an eagle, lifting mountain goats by their tails, can be seen on an electrum beaker from northwestern Iran, dated to the ninth to eight century B.C.!? and a winged human holding two lions appears on a silver gilt mirror from Kelermos Kuban, assigned by Rostovtzeff to the Scythian art of the sixth century 'B:C.2° The appearance of the man who carries an animal on his shoulders on this pot is reminiscent of the warrior on Marlik Silver Beaker 202 M?!. A similar scene appears on a Zindjerli relief dated by Bossert to the ninth century B.C.??. The coil band encircling the rim of this vessel and many others from Marlik has been used in different times and in different regions. A similar coil band appears on a group of seals in the Ashmolean, classified by Hogarth as Hittite seals, Class III, group 1-5, dated around the late second millennium B.C.*3. Similar coil bands also

150

EZAT ©. NEGAHBAN

border the top and bottom of designs on cylinder seals classified by Frankfort as Mitannian, Assyrian thirteenth-tenth century B.C. first and second Syrian and Palestinean groups, dating from the middle of the late second millennium B.C.24. In these various seals, although a variety of techniques have been used, the design motif is the same. A similar type of coil banding occurs on a seal classified by Moortgat as Assyrian, thirteenth century B.C.?°, while another example of this coil

band appears on a gold bowl from Ras-Shamra?®. Coil bands also occur on many bronze vessels from western Iran, dated to the tenth century BG A simple rosette appears on the base of this silver pot. A similar rosette can be seen on an ivory fragment found in Nimrud in the excavation of the north-west palace of Assurnasirpal (883-859 B.C.) and also on the southeast temple of the same king?#. This silver teapot from Marlik with inlaid designs in gold illustrates both the advanced metal technology of the Marlik people and their awareness of contemporary religious symbolism and mythology. A typological analysis of the Marlik vessel with comparable objects found in other excavations well supports the time range of late 2nd and early first millennium B.C. for the Royal Cemetery of Marlik, a date which coordinates with the carbon fourteen analysis of the remains from the Marlik tombs resulting in a date of 1457 B.C. + 55 years*?. The Marlik silver teapot is an outstanding example of the originality of Marlik art and its close relationship to the art of neighboring areas.

NOTES ! Ghirshman, Roman, Persia from the Origins to Alexander the Great, London,

1964,

Fig. 16, p. 18. 2 R.H. Dyson, “Hasanlu and Early Iran,” Archaeology, 13, No. 2, June, 1960, p. 127. 3 Ghirshman, op. cit., Fig. 142, p. 109. * Kantor, H.J., “The Shoulder Ornament

of Near Eastern

Lions,” JNES,

6, No. 4,

1947, Pl. X-XI, pp. 250-74. $ Vanden Berghe, Louis, Archeologie De L’Iran Ancien, Leiden, 1959, PI. 22, p. 5.

© Ibid, Fig. 62, p. 93. 7 Potratz,

Hanns,

“Die

Luristanbronzen

des Museums

fur Kunst

und Gewerke

Hamburg, Tab. IV, No. 11, p. 20; idem, “‘D’ardenne de Tizac”, Art et Decoration,

in

1931,

p. 15; idem, in Prahistorische Zeitschrift, 1941-42, p. 210, Abb. 63. 8 Frankfort, Henri, The Art and Architecture of the Ancient Orient, 3rd ed. rev., Baltimore, 1963, Fig. 1. ° Pope, Arthur Upham, ed., A Survey of Persian Art, Sopa, Ashiya, 1981, VII, pl. 218. 19 Kantor, Helene J., “Bronze Plaque from Tell Tainat,” Oriental Institute Museum Notes, No. 13, p. 104; Fig. 14, pp. 110-11.

SILVER VESSEL OF MARLIK

151

!! Barnett, R.D., A Catalogue of the ‘Nimrud Ivories’ with Other Examples of Ancient Near Eastern Ivories in the British Museum, London, 1957, Fig. 28, p. 83. 12 Contenau, Georges, Les Tablettes De Kerkouk et les Origines de la Civilisation Assyrienne, Paris, 1926, Fig. 68, p. 62. 13 Moortgat, Anton, Zeitschrift fur Assyriologie und verwandte Gabiete, Neue Folge, Band 13 (Band 47), Abb 63, pp. 78-79. 14 Porada, Edith, Alt Iran. Die kunst in vorislamischer Zeit, Kunst Der Welt, Baden-

Baden, 1962, p. 91. This gold cup is in the Louvre. 15 Van Buren, E. Douglas, Clay Figurines of Babylonia and Assyria, London, 1930, Pl LX Ville Eis#820 p.277; 16 Dalton, O.M., The Treasure of the Oxus with Other Objects from Ancient Persia and India, London, 1905, Fig. 28, p. 43. 17 Barnett, op. cit., Fig. 29b, p. 83. '8 Goldman, Bernard, ‘Early Iranian Art in the Cincinnati Museum,” The Art Quarterly, 26, No. 3, 1964, Fig. 3. 19 Culican, William, The Medes and the Persians, London

1965, PI. 8. This beaker is in

the Louvre. 20 Rostovtzeff,

Mikhail, /ranians and Greeks in South

Russia, Oxford,

pp. 48-49. 21 Negahban, Ezat O., A Preliminary Report on Marlik Excavation. Expedition, Rudbar 1961-1962, Tehran, Offset Press, 1964, 1977, Fig. 104.

1922, PI. VI,

Gohar

Rud

22 Bossert, Helmuth, A/tanatolia, Berlin, 1942, Pl. 235, No. 910, p. 76. 23 Hogarth, D.G., Hittite Seals with Particular Reference to the Ashmolean Collection,

Oxford, 1920, Pk. VI, 166, 167, 175, 179, 182-83, pp. 35-37, 95. 24 Frankfort, Henri, Cylinder Seals, London,

PIHXLINa, bs Pl XXX

1939, Pl. XXXI

a, 8; PIPXLI'e; Puy; 0, Pl XL

fh; 1,

a, c, d, e; Pl. XLII b, c;

jk, m, 0, PE XEIV ce,

m, n; Pl. XLIV q, t.

25 Moortgat, op. cit., Abb 77, 78, pp. 84-86.

26 SYRIA, 15, 1934, Pl. XV. 27 Calmeyer, P., Reliefbronzen in babylonischem Stil, Munchen, 1973. Coil bands can be seen on most vessels in Groups A, B, C, E, F, G, H, I, K, L, M, N, O and Abb 92 and

1572 28 Barnett, op. cit., Pl. XXIX, S36q, S35; Pl. XXXI S38a-c; PI. CX S403a-c. 29 Modderman,

P., Institut Voor Prehistorie der Rijksuniversiteit te Leiden (Gronin-

gen C-14 Laboratory).

AMNON

NETZER

THE STORY OF THE PROPHET SHO‘AYB IN SHAHIN’S MUSANAMEH INTRODUCTION

The Prophet (or Nabi) Sho‘ayb is mentioned by his Hebrew name YTRW (yitro |Jethro)! in the Book of Exodus as the Midianite priest and father-in-law of Moses?. One day while at the well where Jethro’s seven daughters were drawing water for their flocks, Moses defended them against a group of shepherds who tried to drive them away. Jethro, out of gratitude, gave him his daughter Zipporah. After the divine revelation at the burning bush, Moses was ordered by God to return to Egypt and deliver the Israelites from slavery into freedom. Here, he asked and received Jethro’s permission to go to Egypt. After the Exodus from Egypt, when the Israelites crossed the Red Sea, Jethro, bringing his daughter with him, namely Moses’ wife, Zipporah, and her two sons, came to greet his son-in-law. Jethro arranged a burnt

offering and sacrifices for God and a big feast for Moses, Aaron and the elders of Israel. He advised Moses in matter of the reorganization of the judicial system, and then returned to his land*. Sho‘ayb is mentioned in the Qor’an as a prophet who came after Hud, Saleh and Lot°; he was sent to the “people of thicket” (al-Aika) who are mentioned in Suras xv, 78; xxvi, 176-89; 1, 14. In Suras vii, 85-

93; xi, 4-5; xxvill, 22 ff; xxix, 36ff, Sho‘ayb appears living among his brethren in Midian. Nowhere in the Qor’an is he explicitly mentioned by name in relation to Moses. The later commentators and authors of gesas identified Nabi Sho‘ayb with the biblical Jethro of Midian (Heb. MDYN = midyan) because of the striking resemblancé between Ex. ii, 16-21 and Sura xxviii, 22 ff. In the Qor’än, Sho‘ayb preaches monotheism and honesty in weights and measures. He is rejected by the notables of his country, which is later destroyed by an earthquake, leaving all its inhabitants dead. The story of Jethro /Sho‘ayb’s life and his relations with Moses was later introduced and elaborated in midrashim. Some of the themes of this story apparently found their way into Islamic traditions. Sho‘ayb is venerated by the Druze (an esoteric and originally an offspring of the ’

STORY OF THE PROPHET SHO‘AYB

153

Isma‘ili sect) as their prophet and as the Universal Intellect (‘aql kull). Sho‘ayb’s tomb at Kafar Hittin, north of Israel, is a center of pilgrimage for the Druze. Naser-e Khosraw visited and described the tombé. Usually, one may say that the Bible, the Qor’än and the midrashim constituted the main sources of the story of Nabi Sho‘ayb in the gesas literature and the Islamic annals. Kesa’’s account” is scanty and mostly irrelevant to our subject. It seems that Tha‘labi® based most of his material on Tabari’s Annals (I, pp. 442-528)°. But the interesting point is that whereas Biblo-Qor’anic stories such as the story of Joseph captured the imagination of some great authors and poets of Persia, the story of Nabi Sho‘ayb has not been developed into a creative composition. Poets of Persia such as Naser-e Khosraw (d. 1088), Sa‘di (d. 1292), Hafez (d. 1389) and others have often alluded to Nabi Sho‘ayb, but usually in connection with Moses, emphasizing the latter’s fidelity as Sho‘ayb’s shepherd. The task of creating a long narrative, a somewhat epic and romantic poetic composition, remained to be carried out by the Judeo-Persian poet of the 14th century, Shahin. Shahin introduced the story of Nabi Sho‘ayb into his first poetic creation, Musänämeh (composed in 1327), while relying on biblical, midrashic and Islamic sources. In Musänämeh,

the story runs from chapter 20 to chapter 35, and from chapter 65 to 68—it constitutes about one-tenth of approximately ten thousand lines of Musänämeh. Wilhelm Bacher was the first Western scholar who, while introducing the entire poetic works of Shähin, briefly mentioned the story of Nabi Sho‘ayb in Musänameh!°. Shim‘on Hakham, a Bukharan Jewish scholar!! published a non-critical edition of Shahin’s works. Hakham appended his own commentary in Judeo-Tajik to almost every chapter of Shahin. Hakham called his commentary Musänämeh, a title which was later adopted by Bacher and other scholars when making references to Shähin’s versification into Judeo-Persian of the last four books of the Bible: Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy. In many instances there is no direct correlation between Hakham’s commentary and Shahin’s narratives!?. Neither Bacher nor Hakham has elaborated the subject or analyzed the sources. It is the purpose of this article to present the entire story of Nabi Sho‘ayb in Musänämeh and to attempt to show some of Shahin’s sources on this subject.

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AMNON NETZER

A SUMMARY

OF THE TEXT WITH COMMENTARY

The account of Nabi Sho‘ayb in Musänämeh!? can be conveniently divided according to the poet’s division of headings (= chapters), which are not numbered in the original manuscripts. In the following, number 1 after the dot refers to the summary of the text and number 2 to the commentary by the present writer. l. The trial by fire and gold (ch. 20) 1.1

Pharaoh asked that the child Moses, who had been taken care

of by his daughter, be brought to him. He loved the child and showed him affection. Sitting on Pharaoh’s lap, Moses pulled his beard removed his crown and put it on his own head. Pharaoh became angry and asked the wise men in his court to advise him how to treat the child. Balaam (bil'äm) advised Pharaoh to kill the child. Job (Ayyub) remained silent which later brought him a miserable and unbearable life. Sho‘ayb suggested to test the child by putting two wash-tubs (tasht), one filled with gold and the other with burning coals, in front of him. Moses stretched out his hand to touch the gold, but the Angel Gabriel pushed it towards the fire, and as a result of which his finger was burned. He instinctively touched the tip of his tongue whereupon it was also burned, thus purifying it from the unclean milk (shir-e nä-päk) once dropped on his tongue by an Egyptian nurse. Moses became “heavy in tongue!®.” Nabi Sho‘ayb, because of his intelligent advice, was given valuable gifts and a robe of honor. 1.2 According to Yashar Shemot!, it was the Angel Gabriel who appeared in disguise as an Egyptian wise man and suggested to Pharaoh to test the child by placing before him an onyx stone and a coal of fire. Shahin seems to have relied upon Shemot Rabbah 1,26 where Jethro is the one who advised the test with the burning coal. As to the presence of the three counselors, Balaam, Job, and Jethro, they

appear in the Jewish legends with regard to Pharaoh’s dream. As the result of this dream and its interpretations, Pharaoh orders the annihi-

lation of all the male children of Israel'®.

Nishaburi relates that it was Aysiyyah (Asiyyah Pharaoh’s wife) who advised Pharaoh to prepare two wash-tubs burning coals and other with jujube!7.

(tasht)

one

filled with

STORY OF THE PROPHET SHO‘AYB

155

2. Moses’ flight from prison to Midian (chs. 21-23)

2.1 Moses killed an Egyptian who planned to murder an Israelite in order to have an affair with his wife (ch. 21)!8. The next day, Moses happened to be at another scene of quarrel between an Israelite and a bichäreh “a helpless” person. The violent Israelite happened to be yesterday’s victim whose very life was saved by Moses. The Israelite offended Moses and disclosed the secret that Moses killed an Egyptian. Consquently, Moses was arrested and sent to prison (ch. 22). Moses escaped from the prison with the help of the Angel Gabriel. Moses crossed a vast plain and passed forty stations in half a day until he found a huge tree near a well. He built a dwelling place for himself on the tree; thus Pharaoh’s astrologists were unable to locate him on the

earth (ch. 23). 2.2 The story of Moses killing an Egyptian taskmaster is versified by Shahin in an abridged form. Yet the event is narrated in detail in several Jewish sources, such as Shemot Rabbah

1,28; wa-Yigra Rabbah

32,4-5; PdRE ch. 48; Yashar Shemot pp. 248-49; and Dibrei haYamim p. 4. The Hebrew man is called Dathan, but Shahin does not mention him by his name. Concerning the second quarrel, the Jewish sources narrate that it occurred between the two Hebrew brothers, Dathan and Abiram, the sons of Pallu, of the tribe of Reuben who happened to be on bad terms with Moses. These brothers also informed Pharaoh of the killing of the Egyptian taskmaster by Moses!°. The act of Moses’ flight is much

more

elaborate in the Jewish sources for, according to them,

Moses reaches Ethiopia. After the death of Qiqanos, the king of Ethiopia, the people make Moses, then twenty-seven years old, their king. Moses then married Adonia, the widow of Qiqanos, and reigned for forty years over Ethiopia 2°. These sources maintain that Moses left Ethiopia at the age of sixty-seven, but fearing a return to Egypt, he journeyed to Midian??. Tha‘labi relates that the quarrel took place between an Israelite and a Copt (Egyptian) who was Pharaoh’s baker; Moses killed the Copt by mistake, an error which was the result of the provocation of Satan. The next day a quarrel broke out between the same Israelite and a “Pharaonite.” It was the Israelite who blamed Moses for the previous day’s killing of the Copt. Thus the people present heard and informed Pharaoh of the yesterdays’ event. Moses planned to flee. An angel guided him to Midian, a journey of “eight nights.” Nishaburi follows

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AMNON NETZER

the same line of narration, but claims that Moses reached Midian by himself within three days??.

3. Moses helps Nabi Sho‘ayb’s daughters (ch. 24)

3.1 While on the tree, Moses saw some thirty or forty shepherds with their flocks arriving at the well. They removed the heavy rock from the top of the well, watered their flocks and covered the well with the rock. They would quarrel with each other day and night. Then seven girls whose faces were coverd came to the well; they brought their father’s flock with them. Their father Sho‘ayb was a great prophet and they tended their father’s flock, but there was no one to remove the rock from the well. Moses descended the tree, kicked the rock with the back of his foot, and threw it as far as one hundred steps. Then he took their pail and struck it onto the well whereupon many brooks burst out from the well in every direction. The girls were astonished of this miraclous act, kissed the feet of the sadr-e emämat, “prime of the imamat,” watered the flock and returned home. Their old father was worried to see them coming home earlier than usual. They told him that a handsome and strong man had helped them out. Sho’ayb asked his daughters to fetch the young man, for he remembered that in his dream he had seen that a distinguished guest would come to him and would lay the foundation of religion in the world. He would be called Musä-ye Kalim ‘Moses the conversant with God.” When he would set his foot on (Sho‘ayb’s) threshold, all the vessels such as pitchers, jars, pois and bowls in his house would turn into zinc. Therefore, day and night he had been yearning to see Moses. 3.2 The scene of Jethro’s seven daughters fetching water from the well and their quarrel with the shepherds is narrated in less detail and in a different form in Shemot Rabbah 1,34; Tanhuma Shemot 11. Tha‘labi says that Moses reached the well which was located under a tree. Nishäburi does not specifically mention the tree, but says “ Musa be-sayeh baz-gasht” (Moses returned to the shade), thus alluding to Sura xxviii, 24: “then he turned aside into the shade.’

follow the Qor’an rendition whereby only two were at the well failing to water the flock because violent shepherds. The Qor’an does not mention father by name. Tha‘labi says they were LY’ (Safura). Nishaburi mentions Sho‘ayb by name

Both sources

daughters of Sho‘ayb of the presence of the the two girls and their (Liya) and SFWRH but not his daughters.

STORY OF THE PROPHET SHO'AYB

157

Both add that it needed forty men to remove the rock from the well. I was unable to find the theme of the vessels turning into zinc in either Jewish or Muslim sources??.

4. Moses meets Nabi Sho'ayb (ch. 25) 4.1 Sho’ayb’s daughters came to Moses and invited him to meet their father who was the owner of the entire green pasture. Moses asked them to follow him because he was forbidden, out of modesty, to see

their backs. “Show me the way by casting stones on the road,” said Moses. The moment Moses met Sho’ayb the house was illuminated by the light radiating from his face; jars, pots, bowls and all other vessels in Sho’ayb’s house turned into zinc. They both sat and ate a meal and talked for a while. Sho’ayb complained about the treacherous and unfaithful world and its inhabitants. He asked Moses to be his son and tend his flock; Moses agreed. 4.2 The story as such is not found in the Jewish sources known to me, except for Moses being asked to tend Sho’ayb’s flock ?*. Tha’labi (p. 115) and Nishaburi (p. 157), relying on Sura xxviii, 25, say that Moses out of modesty asked the girls to follow him lest he see their back 2°. 5. The miraclous rod (ch. 26)

5.1 There were twelve rods in Sho’ayb’s house which belonged to the twelve tribes of Israel. Sho’ayb asked one of his daughters to fetch a rod which she did. Then Sho’ayb ordered her to return the rod and fetch another (the proper) one. She brought a rod which happened to be the same one as before. Once again she was ordered to return it and to bring the right one. This act repeated itself forty times with no satisfactory result; each time the rod appeared to be the same. Then she was ordered to fetch all the rods. She saw nothing but one rod. This event astonished her father. Sho’ayb asked the young man’s name. He replied: Musä-ye ‘Emrän va rasul-e bargozideh va shir-e yazdan, “Moses of Amram the elected messenger and the lion of God,” whereupon Sho’ayb embraced and kissed him. Sho’ayb revealed that the rod acctually had been kept for him (Moses); then he murmured to himself: “I wish he would become my son-in-law.”

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AMNON NETZER

5.2 The themes of this chapter as such are not found in the Jewish sources mentioned above. Midrash wa-Yosha‘?® gives an interesting account as if narrated by Moses himself: When I left Egypt I was forty years old. And I stood near the well and I found Zipporah, Jethro’s daughter, there. I saw that she was the chastest of all. I told her that I wanted

to marry

her. And

Zipporah informed me of her father’s custom and she said to me that her father tests every person who expresses a desire to marry one of his daughters; (he tests him) by the tree that he has in his garden. As soon as (the suitor) touches the tree, he is devoured by 1%

I asked her: ‘Whence has he the tree?’ She said to me: ‘It is a rod that the Holy One, blessed be He, created in the twilight of the first Sabbath eve when the Holy One, blessed be He, created His world. And

the Holy One, blessed be

He, gave it to Adam, and Adam gave it to Enoch, and Enoch gave it to Noah, and Noah gave it to Shem, and Shem gave it to Abraham,

and

Abraham

gave

it to Isaac, and

Isaac gave

it to

Jacob, and Jacob brought it to Egypt and gave it to his son Joseph; and when he (Joseph) died the Egyptians took it as booty from his house and brought the rod to Pharaoh’s palace. And Jethro, my father, was one of the prominent Pharaoh’s scribes. And he saw the rod, desired it and stole it and brought it to his house. On this rod the Ineffable Name is graven, and also the ten plagues that the Holy One, blessed be He, will bring upon the Egyptians in Egypt in the future. It was written on the rod 737, anxa wty,*°. For many days and years the rod lay in my father’s house, until one day my gather took it in his hand, entered the garden, and stuck it in the ground. And (when) he returned to the garden to take it, he found that it had sprouted, and was blossoming. (That is the rod) with which he tries any that desires to marry one of his daughters?®. ù Nishäburi does not give any account of the rod concerning the relevant chapter; he does mention it in later chapters when Moses confronts Pharaoh. Tha‘labi?? goes into details describing the rod and the manner which it passed from Sho‘ayb to Moses. Some of Tha‘labi’s themes with regard to the rod resemble those of Shahin. In Tha‘labi it was Moses who several times tried to fetch the proper rod, and not Zipporah, as it is narrated by Shahin. Tha‘labi relates that the rod was

STORY OF THE PROPHET SHO'AYB

159

made of the first tree that God planted in the Earth (cf. the Jewish source quoted above). According to Tha‘labi, the rod produced milk from one end and honey from the other end. By striking it on the ground and on the trees, they yielded food and fruits. One could ride on it and Journey any where one desired, or fight against beasts. 6. Sho‘ayb marries his daughter to Moses (ch. 27)

6.1 For two or three days Sho‘ayb prayed to God and asked Him to make Moses his son-in-law. A divine voice announced that Sho’ayb’s daughter, Zipporah, was to be given to Moses, and their marriage contract was concluded

in Heaven.

At that moment,

Sho‘ayb married

his daughter to Moses. A week later, Sho‘ayb gave the divine rod to Moses and asked him to tend his flock. He advised Moses to herd the flock to the road which was on the right; this road, unlike the road on the left, is safe, said Sho’ayb. 6.2

wa-Yosha‘°,

and to some

extent

Yashar Shemot?!

describe a

rather different encounter between Moses and Sho‘ayb. According to wa- Yosha‘ the following are Moses’ words: When I entered the house, I ate, drank and talked to Jethro, asking him to give me his daughter, Zipporah, to wed. And he answered

me: ‘If you will be able to bring me the rod which is standing in my garden, I will give her to you.’ I went and searched the garden and found it and brought it immediately by hand. Jethro thought and said (to himself): Surely he is the man and the prophet about whom all the wise men of Israel foretell, the prophet that will emerge in Israel by whom Egypt together with all the Egyptians will be destroyed. Jethro then immediately became angry and seized me and threw me into the dungeon. Thus Moses remained in the dungeon for seven years*? and was secretly taken care of by Zipporah. Shemot Rabbah?? says Moses promised his father-in-law that without his consent he would not leave Midian with Zipporah: “Why did [Jethro] adjure him? Because he said unto him: ‘I know that Jacob your ancestor, after Laban gave him his daughters, took them and left without his (Laban’s) knowledge. I am afraid if I give you my daughter you will do the same to me.’ Whereupon, Moses swore at once and he (Jethro) gave unto him Zipporah.”

160

AMNON NETZER

According to Tha’labi?* Moses married Sho‘ayb’s younger daughter and worked for the father-in-law for eight years. According to this source, Sho‘ayb advised Moses to take the left road leading to the meadow which was safer. Nishaburi*> relys on Sura xxviii, 27, which mentions eight years with the option of ten years*°. Nishaburi and the Jewish sources, as far as I know, do not mention Sho‘ayb’s advice with

regard to the safe road. 7. Moses kills a dragon (ch. 28)

7.1

Moses realized that the thin and yellow grass would not satisfy

the flock, therefore he turned to the left. After a while, he saw a big

black snake near a cave. The snake had hands and paws and emitted smoke and fire from its mouth. The snake approached Moses, greeted him with “salam” and asked him for a portion of the flock. Moses angrily replied that it should go away, for the flock was in his trust and he would never take that which does not belong to him. The snake insisted upon having some of the sheep for itself, whereupon Moses struck the snake with his rod and cut off its head. Then he tended the flock in that rich and green pasture. Afterwards he returned home and related to Sho‘ayb about his fight with the snake. 7.2 I was unable to find the theme of Moses fighting a snake, or a wolf and a lion’, in Jewish sources. Likewise, this theme is not found in Nishaburi. According to Tha‘labi*® Moses’ endangered himself by taking the road on the right side. One day, while asleep, a dragon approached him, but his rod rose up and killed the dragon. Moses realized that he possessed a powerful rod which was able to turn into a formidable serpent.

8. Moses kills a wolf (ch. 29)

8.1 The next day, Moses, tending the flock in the grassland, suddenly saw a wolf. It greeted Moses with “‘salam’” and asked for its daily portion. Moses emphatically told the wolf that he would not betray the owner of the flock and would refuse to give it any of the sheep. The wolf said: “Oh, prophet! whether you agree or not, I will take my portion.” The wolf seized a sheep and ran away to the plain. The prophet bounded after it like a flying arrow, seized the wolf, tore it into pieces and rescued the sheep. Moses shore the sheep’s fleece, made a

STORY OF THE PROPHET SHO‘AYB

161

strong rope and hanged the wolf as is done with thieves. Moses kissed the sheep and returned it to the flock. In the evening, Moses returned to Sho‘ayb’s house. 8.2 This theme is not mentioned by Tha‘labi, and, as is mentioned above, nor by Nishaburi or the Jewish sources available to me. 9. Moses kills a black lion (ch. 30)

9.1 Moses was tending the flock when he saw a black lion that was madly smashing a granite stone with its tail and cutting it with its claws. Its eyes were like two bowls full of blood. The lion greeted Moses with “‘salam,” boasted that it was the head of the meadow,

that

everything there was under its command, and that no one was allowed to come to the meadow without its permission. Therefore, it claimed, the right to ask for a portion of the flock. Moses said that the flock was in his trust and he could not satisfy such a request. The lion roared, announcing that it would take the sheep by force. Moses replied: “You are the lion of the wood and I am the lion of the Almighty.’ Then he struck the rod on the lion’s chest and brought it out of the lion’s back. He then thanked God and led the flock back home. Sho‘ayb, who was

old and could not see well, touched the sheep and felt that they were well-fed and fat. Then Moses told Sho‘ayb the story of the last three days and the killing of the snake, the wolf and the lion. From then on, with

the divine

rod

in his hand,

Moses

remained

in that meadow

guarding the place and shepherding the flock. 9.2 See above 8.2. If not found anywhere in midrashim, it is not unlikely that this theme has been preserved in Judeo-Persian probably from some lost midrashim. 12. Zipporah gives birth to Gershom and Eliezer (ch. 31)

10.1 Zipporah gave birth to two beautiful boys, Gershom and Eli‘ezer. Sho‘ayb was happy about his grandsons and praised God for this joyful event. Moses continued serving his father-in-law, fighting leopards, lions, tigers, wolves, hyenas, and thus bringing peace and security to the area. 10.2 Though there are many interpretations concerning Moses’ sons, particularly Gershom, Shahin is silent on this subject, although he vividly describes Sho‘ayb’s happiness for his new born grandchildren.

162

AMNON NETZER

Moses’ fight against the beasts is narrated in general terms in Musänämeh°?. ll. The children of Israel in Egypt cry for help (ch. 32)

(This chapter is meant to prepare the scene for Moses’ departure from Midian and his journey to Egypt to liberate his people*°.) 12. Moses speaks with God (ch. 33)

12.1 Sho‘ayb is unhappy to part with his son-in-law, but he helps him by preparing food and riding animals for him. 12.2 Many lines in this chapter are taken from the biblical source Ex. iii and iv, 1-17, but the last ten lines, of ninety lines, refer to Moses’

interaction with Sho‘ayb in accordance with Ex. iv, 18-20*!. 13. Circumcision of Eli‘ezer (chs. 34-35)

13.1 Zipporah dreams that an angel is determined to shed her blood because Moses had not circumcised his son. She woke up, found a granite stone by which she circumcised her son, Eliezer; the stone moved and cut her son’s thigh**. She prayed the whole day and then joined her husband on their way to Egypt (ch. 34). Meanwhile, according to God’s desire, Aaron suggested to his brother, Moses, not to take his wife and children with him to Egypt, but to send them back to Midian. Moses accepted his brother’s advice; Zipporah and her two sons returned to Midian (ch. 35). 13.2 According to Ex. iv, 24 God intended to kill Moses: “And it came to pass by the way at the inn, that the God met him and sought to kill him*?.” Then Zipporah took a sharp stone and cut off “the foreskin of her son, and cast it at his feet, and said: Surely a bloody husband art thou to me*#.” The story of circumcision is rather different in the Jewish legends. Midrash wa-Yosha‘*° narrates that Zipporah nursed her first child for two years, and in the third year she bore a second son. Remembering his compact with Jethro*®. Moses realized that his father-in-law would not permit him to circumcise his second son too. Therefore he determined to return to Egypt so that he might have the opportunity of bringing up his second son as an Israelite. On the journey thither, Satan appeared to him in the guise of a serpent,

STORY OF THE PROPHET SHO‘AYB

163

and swallowed Moses down to his extremities. Zipporah realized that this disastrous event happened because her second son had not been circumcised; she hastened to circumcise him. As soon as she sprinkled the blood of the circumcision

on her husband’s feet, a heavenly voice

commanded the serpent to disgorge him. Moses came forth and stood upon his feet. Thus Zipporah saved Moses’ life twice, first from the dungeon and then from the serpent+’. According to Yashar Shemot*®, it was an angel who wanted to kill Moses because he did not circumcise his first son, Gershom. Zipporah circumcised Gershom in order to save her husband’s life. Shemot Rabbah 5, 8 narrates:

And it came to pass on the way at the lodging-place [that the Lord met him and sought to kill him. Ex. iv, 24]. So beloved is circumcision that Moses’ punishment for its neglect was not suspended even for one hour*?; for this reason, when he was on his way and delayed in circumcising Eliezer his son, the Lord immediately met him and sought to kill him. Though he was an angel of mercy, still he sought to kill him. Then Zipporah took a flint°®. How did Zipporah know that Moses was in jeopardy because of his delay in performing the circumcision? Because the angel came and swallowed Moses from his head to his circumcised membrum. When Zipporah perceived that, she realised that he was being threatened on account of this delay in circumcising; and she also recognized the great protective power of circumcision, seeing that he could not swallow him further than that membrum. So she immediately cut off the foreskin of her son, and cast it at his feet; ... the angel immediately released him in light of the circumcision. 14. Sho‘ayb proceeds to welcome the victorious Moses (ch. 65)

14.1 Sho‘ayb learned of Moses’ victory over the Egyptians. As an act of thanksgiving, Sho‘ayb gave alms, sheep and cows to the poor. Together with his daughter, Zipporah, and his two grandchildren and supplied with abundant food, Sho‘ayb set out to meet Moses. A messenger informed Moses of Sho‘ayb’s departure. Moses together with his brother, Aaron, and the elders of Israel proceeded to meet Sho‘ayb

midway. 14.2 The midrashic sources relate that Sho‘ayb sent a letter to Moses asking him to come and see his wife and two children: “I adjure thee, by thy two sons and by thy God, to come to meet me and receive me kindly,” wrote Sho‘ayb to Moses“!.

164

AMNON NETZER

Nishäburis? depicts a dramatic scene of the encounter between Aaron and his brother Moses. Apparently, the two brothers did not initialy recognize each other. 15. Sho‘ayb and Moses meet each other (ch. 66)

15.1 While holding his rod, Moses meets Sho‘ayb, kisses him and his wife and sons. They enter the pavilion where Moses spoke in privacy about his battles against Pharaoh and the Egyptians ‘*. 16. Sho‘ayb makes a sacrifice to God (ch. 67) 16.1 Sho‘ayb climbed the mountain Tur where he sacrified sheep and cows to God. His face shone with divine light. Then he ordered his servants to arrange a magnificent feast at the foot of the mountain Tur in honor of the Hebrew army. Moses blessed Sho‘ayb and prayed to God to bestow Sho‘ayb with eternal life. 16.2 The Jewish sources maintain that the arrival of Jethro was celebrated with sacrifices and a feast. The public feast was given by Moses near the bush “which had escaped combustion in the fire>*.” The request for eternal life for Sho‘ayb, a divine gift reserved for a few biblical figures, is not found in the Jewish sources known to me. In the next chapter, Shahin probably corrects himself by relating the word “eternal” to Sho‘ayb’s name, rather than to his life.

17. Sho‘ayb gives advice to Moses (ch. 68)

17.1 Sho‘ayb noticed that his son-in-law was straining himself to take care of his people. He advised Moses to reform his camp by dividing it into groups of tens, hundreds and thousands, and to appoint commanders over each group, so that this huge multitude of people would become manageable. Moses accepted and immediately executed Sho‘ayb’s advice. After a while, Sho‘ayb left the camp to return to his land. Moses and his army bade farewell to him. The name of Sho‘ayb remained alive forever. 17.2

According

to the Jewish

sources,

at first, Moses

refused

to

accept Sho‘ayb’s counsel, but later he found it practical and useful, Ginzberg *>°, relying on the Jewish sources, explains that the installation

STORY OF THE PROPHET SHO‘AYB

165

of the elders on Moses’ part came to pass in accordance with the command of God to lighten his burden, and to permit him partly to transfer the leadership of the people to others. Hence he did not conceal the name of this adviser, but announced it to all the people, and immortalized him as such in the Holy Scriptures*’. According to Ex. xviii, 13-27, Moses accepted Sho‘ayb’s advice without any hesitation: “So Moses hearkened to the voice of his father-in-law and did all that he had said” (ibid, 24). It should be mentioned here that a whole weekly parashah in the Torah is devoted to Jethro and bears his name.

NOTES ! Discussions and disputes over other names of Jethro, such as Re‘u’el, Hobab, etc., see Albright, pp. 1-11; cf. Mechilta ch. 1. 231102 le 3 Ibid. iv., 18. 4 Tbid., xviii, 13-27. > 7x1,089).

© Naser-e Khosraw,

p. 17. For further information

about the Druze, see de Sacy,

Blanc, and Hitti.

7 8 ° 19

Pp. 190-94. Pp. 114-20. See also Tabari, Tafsir; Nishaburi, pp. 153-71, 242-45. Bacher pp. 40-43, 93-96.

11 He was born in Bukhara in 1843, died in Jerusalem in 1910. 12 On Hakham’s Musanameh see Paper, and the review by Netzer.

13 This account is based on the Mss Heb. 4° 1439 fols 13a-53a, and Heb. 4° 1229 fols 249a-315b, both belonging to the Jewish National and University Library in Jerusalem. 14 Slow of speech and slow of tongue (Ex. iv, 10).

15 Pp. 246-47. 16 Yashar Shemot, pp. 239-41. 17 Nishaburi, p. 154. Regarding the Arabic version of the legend, see Grünbaum pp. 155-60; cf. also Sura xviii, 9. 18 This chapter (21), containing 29 lines, provides the setting for a meeting between Moses and Sho‘ayb. 19 See Shemot Rabbah 1,29-31; Tanhuma Shemot 9-10.

20 Yashar Shemot, pp. 249-55; Ba Midbar Rabbah 14, 12; Dibrei ha-yamin, p. 5. 21 Cf. esp. Yashar Shemot, loc. cit. Le]

22 © Tha‘labi, p. 114; Nishaburi, p. 156; cf. Qor’an, xxviii, 5-20. 23 Tha’labi, p. 115; Nishaburi, p. 156; cf. Qor’än, xxviii, 23.

24 See “Jethro” in Ginzberg, index. 25 un For the Jewish source of this custom, see Bacher, p. 94 n. 4.

EGP 42; 27 These Hebrew letters are acrostic of the Ten Plagues. 28 Cf. PdRE ch. 40. JO) oy WISE, 30 Pp. 42-43-

166

AMNON NETZER

2 D 250 32 Ten years according to Yashar Shemot, pp. 259, 262. 233% Se 190, SENG, SO es MES, 36 Cf. below 10.1, where Shahin refers to eight years. a

ST Seeibelow. os

10e

SORTIE 39 © See also below, 13.

40 41 42 43

See See The Cf.

Ex. ii, 23-24; Ginzberg, ii, pp. 296-300. Ginzberg, ii, pp. 303-04. word thigh in Hebrew sources is in general used euphemistically for penis. Shahin, above.

ah JBC IN, 28 45 43-44, 46 That Zipporah’s children should Israelite, the other Egyptian. 47 See also Ginzberg, ii, p. 295. 257265:

be divided

into two equal classes, one

to be

49 Cf. B. Talmud, Nedarim 31b. SO YESS 25:

51 See Ginzberg, iii, p. 64; cf. Ex. xviii, 1-4. 52 Pp. 168-69. 53 See Mechilta

Yitro 1; for other sources see Ginzberg, ili, p. 65; cf. Ex. xviii, 5-11.

54 See Josephus Ill/iii; cf. Ex. xviii, 12 and Ginzberg, iii, p. 66. 55 Tbid., pp. 67-69. PSST bidep. 2. 57 Cf. Mechilta Yitro 1; Josephus III, iv, 1-2.

REFERENCES Albright, W.F., “Jethro, Hobab

AND ABBREVIATIONS and Reuel in Early Hebrew

Tradition,”

The

Catholic Biblical Quarterly, xxv, 1963, pp. 1-11. Ba-Midbar Rabbah: See Midrash Rabbah. Bacher, Wilhelm,

Zwei judisch-persische Dichter Schahin und Imrani, Strassburg

1. E., 1908. Blanc, Haim, ha-Doruzim (The Druze), Jerusalem, 1958. de Sacy, Silvestre, Expose de la religion des Druzes, 2 vols, Paris, 1838. Dibrei ha- Yamim: See Jellinek vol. ii. S Ginzberg, Louis, The Legends of the Jews, 7 vols, Philadelphia, 1946-1947. Grünbaum, Max, Neue Beiträge zur Semitischen Sagenkunde, Berlin, 1893. Hitti, Philip K., The Origins of the Druze People and Religion, New York, 1928. Jellinek, Adolph, Bet ha-Midrasch, 6 vols, Jerusalem, 1938. Josephus, Jewish Antiquities, Books I-IV, tr. H. St. J. Thackeray,

1930. Kesa’i, Muhammad

London,

ben ‘Abdallah, Oesas al-anbiya’, ed. Isaac Eisenberg, Lei-

den, 1922.

Mechilta Yitro: See Mechilta d’Rabbi Ishmael.

STORY OF THE PROPHET SHO‘AYB

167

Mechilta d’Rabbi Ishmael, ed. H.S. Horovitz, Jerusalem, 1960. Midrash Rabbah, 10 vols, ed. Moshe Aryeh Mirkin, second edition, Tel Aviv,

1965-68. Midrash Tanhuma, 2 vols, ed. Shelomo Baber, New York, 1946. Naser-e Khosraw, Book of Travels (Safarnama), tr. W.M. Thackston,

Jr.,

Persian Heritage Series 36, Albany, NY, 1986. Netzer, Amnon:

See Paper, Herbert H.

Nishaburi, Abu Eshaq b. Mansur, Teheran, 1340/1961.

Qesas al-anbiya’, ed. Habib

Yaghma’i,

Paper, Herbert H., (ed.), The Musä-nama of R. Shim‘on Hakham, Hebrew Union College Press, Cincinnati, 1986 (reviewed by Amnon Netzer, JAOS,

2 (April-June 1989), pp. 311-12. PdRE: Pirgei deRabbi Eli‘ezer, Eshkol Publication, Jerusalem, 1973. Sepher ha-Yashar, ed. Yosef ben Shemu’el ha-Qatan, Berlin, 1923. Shemot Rabbah: See Midrash Rabbah. Tabari, Annales, ed. de Goeje, Leiden, 1879-1901.

Idem., Jami‘ al-bayan [Tafsir], Cairo, 1373/1954. Tanhuma Shemot: See Midrash Tanhuma. Tha‘labi, Abu Eshaq, Qesas al-anbiya’ al- mosammä' [Cairo], 1348/1929. wa-Yosha‘: See Jellinek vol. 1.

wa-Yigra Rabbah: See Midrash Rabbah. Yashar Shemot: See Sepher ha-Yashar.

‘arä'es al- majäles, Egypt

FRANZ ROSENTHAL AT-TABARTS STORY OF THE BELT Ehsan Yarshater’s organizational activity on behalf of the English translation of at-Tabari’s History is one of his many major accomplishments. Thus, a volume dedicated to him must include a remembrance of the great Iranian scholar. It is for this reason alone that I have chosen to present here a complete translation of the Story of the Belt!. The fascinating little tale contains no strictly historical account of an episode in at-Tabari’s life, but it seems to have originated already later in the century in which he died. This is suggested by the chain of transmitters and by the fact that it is mentioned in al-Khatıb alBaghdadi’s History of Baghdad?. It is, however, possible that its linguistic form underwent a good deal of change in transmission, in particular as it was suited, and no doubt occasionally employed, for the moral instruction of the young. The text is available to me only in a rather poor photocopy, apparently an enlargement of a microfilm, of the manuscript in Cairo. It is written in a cursive scholarly hand and forms part of a rather substantial majmü'ah. I was unable to establish a fully acceptable text. A visit to Cairo and another manuscript would probably provide solutions to all the remaining problems, but neither being within my reach, I can only apologize for the shortcomings to be found in the following pages. Under the circumstances, a publication of the Arabic text or the reproduction of the photocopy were out of the question. Consultation of the entire manuscript might provide further useful information. Not even a complete description of it is available to me, and I do not know whether one has been published. The photocopy contains two study notices. One appears on what seems to be the front page of the entire manuscript, the other on the otherwise empty page 438, which precedes the title-page of the Story of the Belt and follows upon the text of the Musnad of Ibrahim b. Adham. A brief discussion of them seems to be indicated. The front page also contains the signature of Ibn Hajar’s grandson, Yusuf b. Shahin Sibt Ibn Hajari. His name occurs again on p.438. He would appear to be the first individual, in connection with whom the physical existence of the manuscript is attested. The riwayah of the Story of the Belt confirms

STORY OF THE BELT

that the manuscript

169

was written in his time. The last rdawi, al-Wasiti

(below, n. 27), achieved prominence only late in his life before he died in 836/1433; he may have transmitted the story to the scribe of the manuscript, and Sibt Ibn Hajar was about eight years old when alWasiti died. Thus, the manuscript appears to have been written in the first half of the ninth/fifteenth century. Fuat Sezgin, however, dates it in the preceding century, possibly upon the basis of more precise dates found elsewhere in it*. The front page carries the title of the immediately following work: Hadith Muhammad b. ‘Abdallah al-Ansari>—transmission of Abu Muslim Ibrahim b. ‘Abdallah b. Muslim al-Kajji from him— transmission of Abu Muhammad ‘Abdallah b. Ibrahim b. Ayyub b. Masi’ from him. Praise to God alone! Underneath, taking up the rest of the page, we find the study note: I have read this treatise (juz’) by al-Ansari and the following notes by Ibn Masi before the great scholar, Shaykh Karim-ad-din Muhammad b. Muhammad b. Muhammad b. al-"Imäd’—may God be good to him! —as he had studied it (bi-samda‘thi) with Shaykh Jalal-ad-din Abu Hurayrah ‘Abd-ar-Rahman b. ‘Al b. Shaykh al-Islam Siraj-ad-din b. al-Mulaqqin? and Shaykh Qutbad-din Muhammad b. al-Muhibb Muhammad al-Jawjari!° and with the musnidah Hajar bint ash-Sharaf al-Qudsı!!, as these three had studied it with Shaykh Burhan-ad-din at-Tanukhi!?. * I have read it before him more than once. The fellow students were Shaykh Badr-ad-din Muhammad b. al-Alay'%, Sayyıdı Muhammad b. Yashbak al-Yusufi and his son Ahmad '*, the excellent Zayn-ad-din ‘Abd-ar-Rahman, a son of the great scholar Judge Badr-ad-din Hasan at-Talkhäwı!’, Muhammad b. Abi Bakr al-

Mahalli, Muhammad b. ‘Abd-al-Qadir b. Amir Hajj al-Halabi, Ibrahim b. ‘Ali at-Tandatä’ı!‘, and Abu I-...17 Ahmad and his half-brother on his father’s side Yahya in the first (year) of his life, the two

sons

of the writer of (this note, i.e., al-Muzaffari),

the

woman carrying (Yahya) being ... an-Nubiyah (?). A fellow student for part of it'8 was Ahmad b. Muhammad b. al-‘Ishrah (?). The musnid did not participate as a student (?)'°. The musmi‘ (i.e., Ibn al-‘Imad) gave his ijazah for the material transmitted by him on Ramadan 14, 915/December 15, 1510. The reader, Muhammad b. Ahmad al-Muzaffari?°, has written this (note). May God pray for and bless our lord Muhammad, his family, and his companions!

170

FRANZ ROSENTHAL

* and the grandson of Ibn al-Mulaqqin (also) having studied the treatise (juz’) and the notes with Abu I-Ma‘ali al-Mulawi (?) and Abu l-Abbäs as-Suwayda(ni) with the well-known chain of trans-

mitters of the two—added on by Muhammad al-Muzaffarı *?! Praise be to God! Correct! Written by Muhammad b. Muhammad b. Muhammad b. ‘Ali b. Muhammad b. Muhammad b. al-‘Imad. The sama‘ notice found on p. 438 is the copy of an original found in an earlier manuscript. It conveys this information: The work contained in the preceding pages is the Musnad of Ibrahim b. Adham as transmitted by Abu ‘Amr b. Mandah??. It passed by way of ijazah from Ibn Mandah to Abu Tahir al-Khidr b. an-Nadr (?) b. ‘Abd-al-Wahid as-Saffar and from him to Abu |Barakat ‘Umar b. Ahmad b. Muhammad b. “Umar al-Hasanı azZaydı, and then from the latter by way of study (bi-samä'ihi) to Muhammad b. Abï1-Khayr b. Muhammad b. Ahmad b. al-Haddäd?®. Ibn al-Haddäd also studied it with Muhammad b. Abi’lQasim b. '-b/th-rawayh as-Salihani** on the authority of Ibn Mandah. Ibn al-Haddad lectured on the text. Readers were the häfız ‘Izzad-din Abu’l-Fath Muhammad, a son of the hafiz Abd-al-Ghani b. ‘Abd-al-Wahid al-Maqdisi?*, and ‘Abd al-Latif b. ‘Abd-al-Mun‘im b. ‘Ali b. as-Sayqal al-Harränı?°. The study of the text was completed in the evening of Friday, Dhuü.l-Qa‘dah 5, 596/Thursday, August 17, 1200, in Baghdad. The (note) was transcribed by Ahmad b. Muhammad at-Tahiri. From his autograph, an abridgment was made by Yusuf b. Shahin Sibt Ibn Hajar al-Asqalani.

TRANSLATION

[p. 440] We were told by Abu l-Abbäs Ahmad 6. Muhammad b. Abi Bakr al-Wasiti?” orally (shifahan)—al-musnid Sadr-ad-din Muhammad b. Muhammad b. Ibrahim al-Maydümi—Abü I-Faraj ‘Abd-al-Latif b. ‘Abd-al-Mun‘im al-Harrani?® by way of ijäzah— Abu 1-Faraj Abd-ar-Rahmän b. ‘Ali b. al-Jawzi by way of ijazah— Abu I-Fadl Muhammad b. Nasir b. Muhammad as-Sallami— Jamal-ad-din Abu) Muhammad Rizgalläh b. ‘Abd-al-Wahhab at-Tamimi

al-wd‘iz?°,

as

he

permitted

me

to

transmit

on

his

STORY OF THE BELT

197

authority, and I (also) copied it from the manuscript of the Shaykh

Abu I-Hasan al-..ädhäni—Abü I-Hassan Ahmad b. ‘Ali al-Bädä3®, by reading to him in Rabr I, 417/May-June, 1026—Abü Bakr Ahmad b. Shädhän al-Bazzar?!—Abut Khäzim al-Mu‘alla b. Sa‘id al-Baghdadi al-Bazzär*? in Egypt in the year 346/957-58—I heard Abu Ja’far Mujammad b. Jarir at-Tabari say in the year 300/91213;

I was in Mecca in the year 240/855, when I saw a Khuräsänian announce in public: “Assembled pilgrims! He who has found a belt containing 1,000 dinars and returns it to me, God will multiply his reward!” An old Meccan shaykh, one of the clients of Ja‘far b. Muhammad*#, went up to him and said: ‘“O Khurasanian! Our town is poor. Its inhabitants are in a straightened condition, its days are limited, and its appointed times (?) are expected’*. Maybe, (the belt) has fallen into the hand of a believer who desires (the reward) you will give for it as something legally permissible he can take3$ and return it to you.” [p. 441] The Khuräsänian said: “Dear old man?°! How much would he?’ want?” (The shaykh) replied: Ten percent, one hundred dinars.” (The Khuräsänian) said: “Dear old man! We won’t do it, but we shall refer it (him?) to God Almighty.” Whereupon the two parted. Muhammad b. Jarir at-Tabarı said: It occurred to me that the ingenious (?)?® shaykh was the one who had found the belt. I followed him, and it turned out to be as I had thought. He stopped at a low (?) house with a shabby gate(?) and entrance®?. I heard him call out for Lubabah, and she answered: ‘At your service, Abu Ghiyath!” He said: “I found the owner of the belt announcing its loss in public in general terms (mutlagan), and I said to him: Make it specific by (gayyidhu bian?) setting up some (reward) for the finder! When he asked how much? and I mentioned ten percent, he said: No, but we shall refer it (him?) to God Almighty. So, what shall we do? I must return it.” Lubäbah said to him: “We have been suffering hardship and poverty with you for fifty years. You have four daughters, two sisters, me and my mother, and you as number nine. Now, provide food and clothing (fa-ashbinäa wa-ksunä) for us. Perhaps, God Blessed and Exalted makes you rich, and you will give him (a gift), or He will reward and repay him for what you have done*°.” But he said to her: “I won't do it. I shall not spend what remains of my life in shame*' after eighty-six years.” Then everybody fell silent, and I went back.

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FRANZ ROSENTHAL

The next morning several hours into the day (‘ala sa‘atin min nahär), I heard the Khuräsänian say: ‘‘Assembled pilgrims and God’s party of sedentary people and bedouins! He who has found a belt containing 1,000 dinärs and returns it, God will multiply his reward!” The shaykh went up to him and said: ““O Khuräsänian! I spoke to you yesterday and gave you good advice. Our town, by God, is poor [p. 442] and has few agricultural and animal resources. I told you that you should offer one hundred dinärs (as a reward) for the finder of the belt. Perhaps, it has fallen into the hand of a believer who fears God Almighty. You, however, refused. Now tell him that he shall have ten dinärs. He will return the belt to you, and, as far as he is concerned, the ten dinars will be an honest and respectable (gain)*?.” But the Khurasanian insisted: “Dear old man! We won’t do it, but we shall refer it (him?) to God Almighty.” Whereupon the two parted. At-Tabari said: I did not follow either the shaykh or the Khurasanian but stayed put in order to copy the Kitab an-nasab (On Genealogy by az-Zubayr b. Bakkär*?. The next morning I heard the Khurasanian make the same public announcement. Again, the shaykh went up to him and said to him: “O Khurasanian! The day before yesterday, I told you ten percent, and yesterday, I told you one percent, ten dinars. Now, give him one dinar, one dinar out of a thousand, one-tenth of one percent, so that he can buy for one half of the dmär a small (water) skin to provide water for those staying in Mecca for a fee all day**, and for the other half of the dinar a sheep to milk and give this to his family for food (ghidhaan)*>.”’ But the Khurasanian said again: “Dear old man“! We won’t do it, but we shall refer it (him?) to God Almighty.” Thereupon, the shaykh spoke to him as follows: Come on, take your beit, and let me sleep at night and relieve me from being held to account by you and your situation*’.” (The Khurasanian) said: Go“ in front of me,” and the shaykh went, followed

by the Khuräsänian,

while I followed

the

two. x The shaykh entered and soon came out again, saying: “Come in, Khuräsänian!” He went in, and so did 14°. (The shaykh) dug out from underneath a staircase of his some household garbage and brought out [p. 443] the belt blacker than stout Bukharian (?) rags5°. He asked: “This is your belt?” The Khurasanian looked at it and said: “This is my belt.” He then untied its firmly tied top end, poured the money into his lap, turned (the dinars) around several times, and then said: “These

are our dinärs.” He then held the open end of the belt in his left and

STORY OF THE BELT

173

with his right put the money back into it, until it was all in again (istawfä). He then tied the belt loosely, placed it upon his shoulder, and turned the strings with which he had tied it (?)°! over on top of it. (The Khuräsänian) now made ready to leave, but upon reaching the door of the house, he considered the situation of the shaykh. He went back and said to him: “O Shaykh! My father died and went to Paradise (ila rahmatilläh). He left me‘? from his (property, min ‘indihi) 3,000 dinärs and said to me: ‘Take out one-third and give it to the person who in your opinion deserves it most. Sell my household goods (?, rahli) and use (what you get for) it for your pilgrimage expenses!’ I did that. I took out one-third of the dinars, 1,000 dinars, and tied them up in this belt. Now, since I left Khurasan and came here, I have not seen

anybody who deserves them more than you do. So take them with God’s blessing!’ Then he turned to go and left him. I turned to go after the Khurasanian. Abu Ghiyath, however, came running, and when he reached me, he turned me back with his (fierce) looks (?). He was an old man having a string tied around the middle and with curled eyebrows (?)5*. He mentioned that he was eighty-six years old and that‘* poverty and constant hunger had emaciated him. He said to me: “Sit down! I saw you following me the first day (the day before yesterday, fi awwali yawmin), and you learned all about us yesterday and today. I heard Ahmad b. Yunus al-Yarbu't®> say: I heard Malik say: I heard Naf say on the authority of ‘Abdallah b. “Umar that the Prophet [p. 444] said to ‘Umar and ‘Alt: When God gives the two of you a gift without (your) asking and without any over-eagerness on your part °°, accept it and do not return it, as (this would be like) returning it to God (and offending Him by the refusal of His gift). This is a gift from God Almighty, and a gift is for (all) those present, according to what is transmitted in this sense on the authority of the Messenger of God, (my) young man.” Then he said: “Lubabah, Kuthaynah*’, Buthay-

nah—” and (continuing with) the names of the other women there. Abu Khazim (al-Mu‘alla) said: “I forgot the names of the daughters and sisters 8.’ — He sat down and had me sit down. He had four daughters, two sisters, his wife, and her mother, and there were he and I, so we were ten. He untied the belt and said: “‘Spread out the laps of your garments in front!” I did, but the women had no shirts with laps°°, so they stretched out their hands. He proceeded with counting out one dinar at a time. When he got with the tenth to me°®, he said: “A dinar for you, too.” He had seated them at his right, and me at his left, from

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which he used to begin (?)°!. He then continued distributing (the dinärs) to them, until the belt was empty. They amounted exactly to a thousand2. Thus, a hundred dinars came to me. My joy at their getting rich was greater than my joy at getting the hundred dinars as God’s gift

to me.

We

When I wanted to leave, he said to me: “(My) young man! You are indeed blessed. I have never seen (so much) money ever nor had I hoped to obtain that much. I advise you that it is legally permissible (money)°3. Thus, keep it! Know that I rise at dawn and pray the morning prayer in this threadbare shirt. I then take it off, and the women pray in it one after the other, until all eight have prayed in it. Then I go to work and earn (something) until the time between the noon prayer and the afternoon prayer. I then go out and complete°* my asking sustenance from God. Then I return (home) [p. 445] at the end of the day with cheese, dates, and pieces of cake as well as fresh (?) vegetables°> which God made it possible for me to buy°®°. Then I take off (the shirt), and they alternate it among themselves to pray the evening and night prayers. May God thus make them profit from what they have got and make you and me profit from what we have got. And may He show mercy unto the owner of the money in his grave and multiply the reward of the carrier of the money and hand it over to hinr ip? Muhammad b. Jarir at-Tabari said: I bade him farewell. I used the money for several years°® for my studies, buying food and paper and traveling and paying wages®°. After the year (2)56/870, I asked about the old man in Mecca and was told that he had died some months after that (episode). I found his daughters kings under kings’°. The two sisters and their mother’! had died. I stayed with their husbands and children, telling them about it’?, and they became very good friends with me and honored me. Muhammad b. Hayyan (Hibban) al-‘Ijli73 told me in the year 290/903 that nothing of them’* remained any longer. May God bless them in their death and bless us and them with respect to where they went and we shall go’! End of the Story of [the Belt]’° the Khuräsänian and Abu Ghiyath al-Ja‘fari—May God Exalted show mercy unto both of them! —as reported by Abu Ja‘far Muhammad b. Jarir at-Tabari—May God Exalted show mercy unto him! Praised be God, the Lord of the Worlds! May God pray for our lord Muhammad and his family and companions all! God suffices us and is a good protector.

STORY OF THE BELT

WAS)

NOTES ! Himyän “belt” is, specifically, money belt, as stated in Lisan al-Arab, s.v. The text is found in Ms. Cairo, hadith 1558, pp. 439-45. Dr. Elise Werner Crosby kindly procured a photocopy for me, see Vol. I of the Tabari translation, pp. 98-100 (Albany, N.Y., 1989).

Fuat Sezgin, GAS, I, p. 328, refers to a modern copy of this manuscript. It might be helpful, but was not available to me. * Al-Khatib al-Baghdadi, Ta’rikh Baghdad, Cairo, 1349/1931, IV, pp. 372f. ® Ibn Hajar’s grandson Yusuf lived from 828/1425 to 899/1493, cf. Brockelmann, GAL, Suppl. Il, p. 76; EP, III, p. 778a. Autographs by him are preserved, but I had no opportunity to compare them with the signature here. * GAS, I, p. 328. Sezgin lists the manuscript again I, 100 and 215, but with no clear

reference to its date. ° For al-Ansari who like his transmitter is supposed to have lived into his late nineties (ca. 118-215/736-830); see Sezgin, GAS, I, p. 100. ° For al-Kajji (al-Kashshi) (200-292/815[6]-904), see Sezgin, GAS, I, p. 162; M. Nasirad-din al-Albani (ed.), Fihris makhtütät Dar al-Kutub az-Zähiriyah, al-Muntakhab min makhtütät al-hadith, Damascus 1390/1970, pp. 204 f. ” For Ibn Masi (274-369/887[8]-980), see al-Khatib al-Baghdadi, Ta rikh Baghdad, IX, pp. 408 f., VI, 121, 1. 8, and al-Albani, op. cit., p. 103. 8 A member of one of several Ibn al-‘Imad families of scholars, this Ibn al-"Imäd was

born in 853/1449[50]; cf. as-Sakhawi, Daw’, Cairo 1353-55, IX, pp. 252f. The honorific Karim-ad-din is not mentioned in Daw’. His father was born on Friday, Safar 14, 825/ February 7, 1422, and died on Thursday, RabrI 12, 887/(Wednesday), May 1, 1482; cf. Daw’, IX, pp. 162f. ° Siraj-ad-din “Umar b. ‘Ali b. al-Mulaqqin was of Spanish origin and reached Egypt via Takrur.

Born on Rabr

I 22, 723/March

31, 1323, he died Friday night, Rabr

I 16,

804/(Monday!), October 24, 1401, see Brockelmann, GAL, Suppl. I, pp. 109 f. His son, ‘Ali b. ‘Umar (768-807/1367-1407), was very rich but nothing like his father as a scholar; cf. Daw’, V, pp. 267f. (where his son ‘Abd-ar-Rahman is also mentioned). ‘Alrs son Jalal- ad:din Abu Hurayrah ‘Abd-ar-Rahman was born in Ramadan 790/ September 1388, and died on Friday, Shawwal 8, 870/(Saturday), May 24, 1466; cf. Ibn Hajar, Inba@ al-ghumr, Hyderabad, 1387-96/1967-76, V, pp. 41-46; Daw’, IV, pp. 101f. 10 J have not been able to identify QUES ad-din b. Muhibb-ad-din among the quite numerous Jawjaris of the period. 11 The learned Häjar was born in Rabi I, 790/March-April, 1388, and died on alMuharram 6, 874/July 16, 1469, as indicated in her interesting biography in Daw’, XII, pp. 131f. Her father, the hadith scholar Sharaf-ad-din Abul-Fadi Muhammad b. Muhammad b. Abi Bakr b. ‘Abd-al-Aziz b. Muhammad, lived from the 740s/1340s to Shawwal, 806/April-May, 1404; cf. Daw’, IX, pp. 62f. Hajar studied with “Umar b. Raslan al-Bulqini (724-805/1324-1403) in 799/1396 when she was not yet nine years old. She later gave an ijazah for the text studied with al-Bulqini on Friday, Dhü I-Hijjah 14, 868/(Saturday), August 18, 1464. Al-Bulqini, incidentally, had studied the text with al-Maydumi (664-754/1266-1353). Cf. Salah-ad-din al-Munajjid, “Jjazät as-samä’fi I-makhtütät al-gadimah,” in Majallat Ma‘had al-Makhtütät al-Ara-

biyah, 1, 1375/1955, p. 247 and PI. V. 12 Burhän-ad-din at-Tanükhi could be Ibrahim b. Ahmad b. ‘Abd-al-Wahid (709-800/ 1309[10]-December-January 1397-98), although this is not certain. He became prominent in his later years, and Ibn Hajar was well acquainted with him; cf. Ibn Hajar, Lisan alMizan, Hyderabad, 1329-31, I, pp. 11 f. References to “Burhän-ad-din” are omitted in Ibn al-‘Imad, Shadharät Cairo, 1350-51, VI, p, 363. It is quite possible that he taught the hadith of al-Ansari to the three when they were small children, see the preceding notes (alJawjarı’s dates, regrettably, are not known).

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13 He may be Badr-ad-din Muhammad al-Alä’ı who died in 942/1535[6]; cf. al-Ghazzi, al-Kawäkib as-säirah, ed. Jibrail S. Jabbür, Beirut-Jounieh-Harissa, 1945-59, II, p. 70. Depending on the date of his birth, he could have been a “shaykh” in 916. 14 Tt is hardly surprising that information on most of the following individuals was unavailable. They may never have achieved prominence, and with the change of the political situation at that time, they had a much lesser chance of joining the scholarly establishment and making the biographical dictionaries than did previous generations when Egypt was the undisputed scholarly center of the Muslim world. 15 Zayn-ad-din Abd-ar-Rahmän’s father, Badr-ad-din Hasan b. Ali b. Muhammad b. ‘Abdalläh, was born Sunday night in the beginning of Ramadän, 837/April, 11, 1434. He came to Cairo in 857/1453 and studied with as-Sakhawi; cf. Daw’, III, pp. 115f. We have no indication that he was already deceased by the end of the century. A biography of his son could not be located so far. 16 The reading of the nisbah is slightly uncertain. Its common form is at-Tantada’ı (which could possibly be meant), but at-Tandata’l is found elsewhere as in a sama of the Sohag ms. of ar-Ramhurmuzi, al-Muhaddith al-fasil, ed. M. Ajjaj al-Khatib, Beirut, 1391/ 1971, p. 118, or as the nisbah of the writer of the Istanbul ms. Aya Sofya 4160 (dated Rajab 10, 988/August 21, 1580) of a work entitled al-Lawaih al-miskiyah fi I-fatäTh alMakkiyah. 17 Abu l-Abbäs? 18 Studying a work bi-fawtin “partially,” “with part of it not studied,” “with some omission” was a common occurrence and often commented upon. Cf., for instance, Ibn Hajar, Durar, Hyderabad 1348-50, IV, p. 137, or as-Sakhawi, Daw’, II, pp. 32, 1. 21, 69, 1. 19, 93, 1. 4, III, pp. 155, 1. 24, 183, 1. 3. etc. Bi-fawatin occurs Daw’, VIII, p. 224 bottom (a misprint?, but see fawatat, below). For the plural bi-afwatin, see Daw’, I, p. 154, 1. 12, III, p. 241, 1.8. Al-Munajjid, op. cit. (above, n. 11), p. 238, has ma‘a fawtin (but without specific reference), and he also mentions other forms of expressing the same idea, such as fätahu shay'un, see also, e.g., Daw’, X, p. 174, 1.12. Another

variant is (kamilan

wa-)

mafutan (hardly mufawwa/itan), see Daw’, IX, p. 289, |. 15. An adjective may be added as in fawtan yasiran, quoted by Dozy, Supplement, Il, p. 287b, from Ibn Khaldün’s Rihlah (ed. M. Tawit at-Tanjı, Cairo 1370/1951, p. 18), or bi-fawatätin yasiratin (Daw’, VIII, p. 118, 1. 11). The use ofa prepositional expression referring to the work studied (bi-fawtin fihi, see Daw’, IX, p. 117, 1. 4) seems unusual. Such incomplete study may, of course, have had various reasons in connection with large works, but it usually seems to indicate one or more classes missed. 1% The reading al-musnid is not certain; it could rather be as-sanad, and the subject Ibn al-‘Ishrah, but the reference is unclear. 20 Al-Muzaffarrs signature appears on top of the page alongside that of Sibt Ibn Hajar. He may be the individual listed in Daw’, VII, p. 76, as having been born in 878/ 1474[5] and having studied with as-Sakhawi. Although he was only about twenty years old when Daw’ was published, he impressed as-Sakhawi already then as qualified for inclusion in his biographical dictionary. \ *! The information between asterisks obviously belongs to the earlier passage in the notice marked by an asterisk. It seems to have been added by al-Muzaffari upon Ibn al‘Imad’s suggestion before the latter saw fit to add his ijazah. It would be helpful to know something about the individuals mentioned here. 22 Abu ‘Amr ‘Abd-al-Wahhab b. Muhammad b. Ishäq b. Mandah died on Jumada II 29, 475/November 23[4], 1082, at a very advanced age; cf. EJ’, III, p. 864a. Sezgin, GAS, I, p. 215, no. 12, lists the work under Abü ‘Amr’s father. 23 The preceding three individuals remain unidentified. 24 He seems to be the individual mentioned

incidentally in adh-Dhahabi,

Salah-ad-din al-Munajjid, Kuwait, 1960-66, V, p. 132.

‘Jbar, ed.

STORY OF THE BELT

Wai

?$ “Izz-ad-din Muhammad was thirty at the time, having been born in 566/1170[1]. He died on Shawwal

19, 613/January

29, 1217; cf. adh-Dhahabi,

‘bar, V, p. 47. For his

famous father ‘Abd-al-Ghani al-Jamma‘ili, see Brockelmann, GAL, Suppl. I, pp. 605-07. 2° ‘Abd-al-Latif was barely nine years old at the time, see below, n. 28.

*7 The information on the transmitters mentioned in the Tabari translation (see above, n. |) has not been repeated here. 28 ‘Abd-al-Latif al-Harrani (587-672/1191-1273) was no more than ten years old when Ibn al-Jawzi died, and when he participated in the class in which the Musnad of Ibrahim b. Adham

was studied, he was barely nine (above, n. 26). His father ‘Abd-al-Mun‘im

b.

‘Alt was born, it seems, around 565/1169[70]. As a very young student, ‘Abd-al-Mun‘im visited Baghdad in 578/1182(3]. As an established scholar, he appears in the sama‘ of Ibn al-Jawzi’s A ‘mar al-a‘yan, taught by the author himself on Shawwäl 18, 585/November 29, 1189, see al-Munajjid, op. cit. (above, n. 11), p. 245. He returned to his native Harran, but left again for Baghdad in 596/1199[1200] together with his young sons, ‘Abd-al-Latif and ‘Abd-al-Aziz. In Baghdad, he attended classes accompanied by his children (fa-sami‘a waasma‘ahuma kathiran) and also visited the old Ibn al-Jawzi, as reported by the latter’s grandson Sibt Ibn al-Jawzi, who was in his early teens. ‘Abd-al-Mun‘im himself died already in his thirties, on Thursday, Rabr I, 16, 601/November 13, 1204. Most of this information goes back to Ibn al-‘Imad, Shadharät, V, pp. 3 f., whose sources were Ibn an-

Najjar and Sibt Ibn al-Jawzi, Mir'at az-zamän, Hyderabad,

1370-71/1951-52, anno 601,

pp. 524f. ‘Abd-al-Latif is the only contact between the riwäyah here and the sama’ of Ibn Adham’s Musnad (above, n. 26). The manuscript may, however, contain more information of this type. 2° Rizqallah, a Hanbalite jurist highly esteemed among Hanbalites, was born about 400/1009[10] and thus was eighty-eight when he died in 488/1095; see Ibn Rajab, Dhayl Tabagat al-Hanäbilah, ed. H. Laoust and Sami Dahan, Damascus, 1951, I, pp. 96-106, and the other sources listed in the edition of as-Safadı, Wafr, XIV, pp. 112f. None of them, however, as far as I was able to check, mentions the honorific Jamal-ad-din,

the

reading of which seems certain. Note also Ibn Nasir’s transmission of a family isnad of Rizgalläh going back to ‘Ali; see Ibn al-Jawzi, Muntazam, Hyderabad, 1357-59 IX, pp. 88 f. 30 (Ibn) al-Bada is also listed in as-Sam‘ani, Ansab, Hyderabad, 1962-82, II, pp. 17f. 31 Here, as in the case of al-Mu‘alla, it cannot be determined whether Bazzar or Bazzaz is meant. 32 As indicated in the margin of the manuscript, both adh-Dhahabi (Mizan, Cairo, 1382/1963), IV, p. 148 and Ibn Hajar, (Lisan al-mizan, VI, p. 63) list al-Mu‘alla as the alleged inventor of the Story of the Belt. According to al-Khatib al-Baghdadi, Ta rikh Baghdad,

XIII, pp. 190f., al-Mu‘alla,

who

died around

353/964,

transmitted

from at-

Tabari and to Ibn Shadhan—information no doubt derived from the Story of the Belt. The Ta’rikh Baghdad has Abi Khazim, but no decision between Abu Khazim and Abu Hazim is possible. à 33 Apparently, the sixth Imam of the Shrah, Ja‘far as-Sadig. 34 “Counted days” is a Qur’änic idiom, but in the following expression, only wamawä... is clear. The rest, with a small letter written over it, may be mawägituhüu (wamawägituhü muntazarah), rather than mawa ‘iduhi (or mawänihi “ports” as salvation from the stormy sea of misery). A related phrase, “we expect our final terms (nantaziru Gjalana)” appears in Ibn Abi ‘Awn, al-Ajwibah al-muskitah, ed. M. Abd-al-Qädir Ahmad, Cairo, 1985, p. 67. 35 Yarghabu fi-mä tabdhiluhü lahü halälan ya’khudhuhä. I cannot, however, explain the feminine suffix in ya’khudhuhä (bi-akhdhiha?), unless its assumed antecedent is the dinars.

Note the stress on “legality” in the story. In connection with lost and found objects (lugatah; see EP, V, pp. 809f., s.v.), it would have been the obligation of the finder to

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advertise his find. Offering a reward was comparable to the contractual obligation of payment for service rendered (ju1). It was not something that the finder could rightfully expect and claim, hence the refusal of the Khurasanian to offer a monetary reward. When the owner later on turned the money over to the shaykh, it was as a gift and thus perfectly legal. Note also the large sum involved here, which is a fictional trait. The basic hadith on found money speaks about one hundred dinars. 36 The manuscript has diacritics in this place: y--b-’.. There are none in the later occurrences, of which one (below, n. 46) has two alifs between the first and third consonants. It could be something like ya aba, for abäh or abati, or even ya aba... “O Abu (so-and-so), but (Persian) baba as a respectful form of address for an old man seems preferable. In Ibn Abi ‘Awn, al-Ajwibah al-muskitah, ed. Muhammad ‘Abd-al-Qadir Ahmad, pp. 133, and 174, the editor seems to read ya babd, presumably since ya abana appears out of place. Al-Ibshihi, Mustatraf, Bulaq, 1268, II, p. 306, referred to by Ahmad, substitutes ya abati; I was unable to check al-Bayhaqi, Mahasin. 37 The second person (turidu) would more or less give away the shaykh’s secret. 38 The intended reading seems to be sähib al-garihah. 39 Dar mustafilah (?) khaligat (?) al-bä... wa-l-madkhal. Read al-binyah? Hardly al-

babah or al-bab. 40 Wa-la‘alla llaha tabaraka

wa-ta‘ala yughnika fa-tu'tihi aw yukafi'uhu

‘anka wa-

yagdıhi (?). +1 Uh/khriqu khushashati. #2 Sa/itr wa-siyanah “safeguard of respectability.” #3 The famous historian (Sezgin, GAS, I, pp. 313f.) was still alive at the time, see the Tabari translation, I, p. 98, n. 344a. 44 Quraybah yasqi ‘alayha al-mugimina (al-mugtirina?) bi-Makkata bi-l-ujrati (ajri) s@ira naharihi. “Those staying’ would be the temporary residents, principally the pilgrims, but the reading al-mugimina is doubtful. The word as written looks much closer to al-mugtirma “the destitute’; they, however, seem inappropriate here, since fees are involved. Another possibility, al-mugtarma “guests,” also has little to recommend itself. The manuscript indicates naharihi to be a correction against the Vorlage. #5 Gh-d-’ could also be ghada’an “for breakfast” or ghadan “tomorrow,” but neither is

likely.

,

4° Here we find the spellings with two alifs, see above, n. 36. 47 Wa-arihni min muhäsabatika wa-hälatika. The reading hälatika is not certain. The word could hardly be read talabika “your searching.” 48 The manuscript spells inshi with final ya’. 49 The manuscript has a dittography extending from “and soon came” to “did I.” 50 Fa-nabasha tahta darajatin lahü mazbalatan (‘garbage can” in modern usage) faakhraja minha al-himyäna aswada min khiragin Bukhariyatin (tijariyatin?), -iyatin being the copyist’s correction of -iyin in his Vorlage. Aswad min used as an elative seems preferable to iswadda “blackened by.” But -s-w-d might be a corruption of a form from the root shd-d, indicating that the belt had been wrapped. T >! wa-galaba halagatihi (?) fawgahü. Halagat “loops”? Khulgan ““worn spots”?

>2 Li appears to be deleted. >3 Wa-raddani bi-hada(q-t)ayhi wa-käna shaykhan mashdüda l-wasati bi-sharitin mugassaba I-häjibayni. If this is the correct reading, it may mean that the shaykh had his belt tightened because of hunger, and his eyebrows in his emaciated face gave the impression of a growth of curly hair. It may be meant here as an indication of fierceness. Mugassab could also be mu‘assab. >* Wa-anna indicated in the margin as a correction for wa-idhd. >> Ahmad b. ‘Abdallah b. Yunus died in Rabr I, 227/December-January 842-43 at the age of ninety-four, see Ibn Hajar, Tahdhib, Hyderabad, 1325-27. I, p. 50 f.

STORY OF THE BELT

179

°° Istishräf an-nafs. The relevant traditions use the fourth conjugation instead of the tenth, cf. A.J. Wensinck and others, Concordance et indices, Leiden

1936-88 III. p. 102b.

5? Kuthaynah, which is clearly written, seems to be a formation meant to rhyme with the well-known Buthaynah. >8 The w in al-akhawät looks rather like r/d. However, akhawät seems to be meant,

although the dual, rather than the plural, should have been used, but in the absence of identifications for Kuthaynah and Buthaynah, the situation is not too clear. Alukhra(y)at “the others” is unlikely. $9 Wa-mä kana lahunna qamisun lahü hijrun. 6° Lit., “when the tenth (dinar) reached me (balagha, not ballagha).” 61 Wa-käna yabda’ulmaddan (?) minhu. The shaykh began from his right, so that atTabarı, sitting at his left, was the last to receive his dinar. This translation makes the dubious assumption that “right-left” is used as masculine. If so, “from which he used to begin” refers to the right; wine, for instance, was ordinarily circulated toward the right; cf. ‘Amr b. Kulthüm, Mu’allagah, verse 5, see T. Nöldeke, Fünf Mo‘allagat, Vienna, 1899, Sitzungsberichte, K. Akad. d. Wiss. in Wien, 140,7, I, pp. 24 and 34. The statement may

be meant to explain why at-Tabari, the guest, came last. Read, perhaps, “(On the second and following rounds) he started with me (minni).”

62 Wa-kana alfan fiha alfun is clearly written but hardly correct. 63 See above, n. 35. 64 Thumma akhruju ila tamami stirzägi llahi. The reading tamam is uncertain. The meaning appears to be that having earned a little money, he spent the remainder of the day before the evening prayer on shopping to provide with God’s help for his family’s sustenance.

65 Wa-min bugül nabatat. The reading of the last word and the meaning attributed to it are conjectural. 56 Lit., “which God had opened up of... (bi-ma qad fataha’ llahu...min).” Fataha, rather than manaha, seems the correct reading. 67 “The owner”

is the deceased father, “the carrier’ our Khurasanian.

The m in wa-

sallamahü appears necessary, although it is not visible in the manuscript. 68 Sinin seems preferable to sanatayn. 6° Wa-u'ti al-ujrah, indicating that the money was used to pay for services a traveling student required. Li-l-äkhirah “for the other world,” that is, making charity donations, seems improbable. 70 Mulukan tahta mulukin, apparently an idiom signifying that they had made good

marriages.

i

71 “Their mother” is apparently meant to refer to the shaykh’s wife as the mother of his four daughters and also includes his mother-in-law. 72 Fa-uhaddithuhum bi-dhälika, again referring to the episode of the belt. 73 Unidentified. 74 Ma bagiya minhum nazir wa-la yasir. Nazir, which is complementary to yasir and not contrasting with it, seems to be meant. The second letter looks more like d/dh than r/z,

but badhir (see Lane, s.v.) is less likely. 75 Our fate will be death like theirs and, hopefully, Paradise. 76 Crossed out in the manuscript.

JAMES

R. RUSSEL

KARTIR AND MANI: A SHAMANISTIC MODEL OF THEIR CONFLICT A version of this article was read as a communication to the Annual Meeting of the American Oriental Society at Los Angeles, March 1987. It is offered now in homage to Prof. Ehsan Yarshater, my elder colleague and good friend, whose researches into the politics and religion of the Sasanian Empire have inspired and guided my own. In his polemical treatise Gharbzadegi (‘“Plagued by the West”), the modern Persian writer Al-e Ahmad quotes the comment of a friend on an Orientalist congress held at Tehrän in 1961: “For [the French delegate] there would be nothing more fascinating than if we Iranians were living in the age of the Sasanian kings... He would then come from the heart of the twentieth century with sensitive instruments... to record the performances of minstrels like Barbad... and would return directly to Paris on an Air France jet from the airport near the Sasanian capital constructed especially for orientalists...!” Al-e Ahmad did not live to contemplate the irony of his dismissal of the Sasanians as irrelevant to the real problems of contemporary Iranian life. Then as now a ruthless fanatic, Kartir, promoted the xenophobic state cult, and his direst enemy, Mani, came from Iraq. This discussion considers their

rivairy and the means by which the Zoroastrian clergy triumphed: it is proposed that both Kartir and his rival sought to impress their royal patrons and to win followers by undertaking healing or visionary spiritjourneys, competing, as it were, in that field of ecstatic practice generally termed shamanistic in the study of religions. Although Iranian religion was born in those distant Central Asian lands from which the term ‘‘shaman” itself has come, shamanism is now seen as a trans-

cultural phenomenon, manifesting itself in a variety of what were once called “high” and “low” cultures alike. The Sasanian state in its administration and culture differed little from that of the Arsacids whom

Ardaëir I overthrew, and the tumul-

tuous conditions which assisted the change of dynasty: Roman invasion and Parthian internecine warfare— were not unusual catastrophes. The Arsacid kings had been faithful Zoroastrians; their philhellenism, however often cited, is no counter-argument to the character of their ’

KARTIR AND MANT

181

religious convictions. But the appearance of fire-altars and Aramaic on late Parthian coins and an officially-sponsored redaction of the Avesta, together with spurious and unprecedented claims of Achaemenian descent, indicate that they had begun to use Zoroastrianism as an instrument of official policy as their predecessors had not?. The claim to Achaemenian legitimacy suited even better the Persian Sasanians; the satrapy of Persis had perpetuated on its coins the use of Achaemenian symbols of state and religion: the winged figure hovering over the Ka‘aba-ye Zardoët. The new Sasanian coin type: a fire-altar superimposed upon a royal throne— was a continuation of Persian tradition modified by Arsacid usage. Mas‘udi (d. 956) records the obiter dicta of Ardaëir I to his son [sic], Säbuhr I, that religion and kingship go hand in hand. His words come from the Testament of Ardasir, preserved only in an Arabic version: “Know that kingship and religion are

twins;

one

cannot

exist

without

the other,

for religion

is the

foundation of royalty and the king is the defender of religion>.” For all the appearance of continuity— Western chronicles were to continue blithely interchanging the terms “Persian” and “Parthian” for at least a century—

it took the Jews, then, again, as now,

to smell

danger in the air: they had enjoyed extremely close and friendly relations with the Parthians, and regarded the militant Zoroastrianism of the early Sasanians as a sign of intolerance and persecution to come*. The Sasanian dynasty has often been presented as consistently intolerant in matters of religion, partly for ease of contrast with its predecessors and probably also to make the Islamic conquest of Iran seem

somehow

justifiable®.

It does seem,

at least, that the Sasanians

were ready and able to use their of a kind their predecessors had Zoroastrian clerics sometimes enhance their own position. To

state religion to not experienced, took advantage be fair to them,

Arsacid

were

traditions

of tolerance

generally

respond and that of the it must

to challenges over-zealous situation to be said that

maintained,

except

in

times of crisis: notably, when Manichaeism and Christianity threatened the religious character and social order of the Iranians themselves. The Säsänians were in most respects conservative, unlikely to risk very much innovation, and it seems they tended to react to crises rather than to initiate policies that might have forestalled these: a challenge was

met

on

its own

terms,

but

within

the frame

of reference

of

Zoroastrian attitudes and practices. Before examining the case of the response of the high-priest Kartir to the heretical teacher Mani, let us

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JAMES R. RUSSEL

consider, for comparison, another episode: the so-called Great Persecution of Christians in the fourth century. When Constantine declared Christianity the state religion of the Roman Empire, many of the faithful of.the vast Church of Persia exulted; Aphrahat wrote, ca. 337: ‘The people of God have received prosperity, and success awaits the man who has been the instrument of that prosperity [Constantine]; but disaster threatens the army which has been gathered together by the efforts of a wicked and proud man [Säbuhr II]... The [Roman] empire will not be conquered, for the hero whose name is Jesus is coming with his power, and his armor will uphold the whole army of the empire®.”” Some members of the Christian Church in Iran entertained such alarming extra-territorial loyalties. Others did not, but Christianity is also a proselytizing faith, and the Zoroastrian priestly judiciary sought to force converted Iranians in particular to recant, thus providing many ideal opportunities for their charges to receive the glorious crown of martyrdom. Even when one allows for the glowing hyperbole of the pious Syriac and Armenian martyrologies, the Sasanians appear to have been taken aback by the eagerness of their victims: torture only encouraged them. How did the Säsänian high-priest of the time, Adurbäd 7 Amahraspandan, respond to the Christian threat? First, he submitted to the famous ordeal of having molten bronze poured over his naked breast in witness of the truth of the Zoroastrian faith, in obvious reply to the steadfastness of the Christian martyrs, and in imitation of ZarathuStra, who, according to tradition, had undergone the same ordeal. Chris-

tianity is a religion of the book; Zoroastrianism anciently relied on oral transmission

of the sacred word, the mg@ra, whose sound has magical

potency. Adurbad, according to tradition, divided the Avesta into twenty-one Nasks, or Sections, and compiled the Zoroastrian book of common prayer, the Khordeh Avesta (“Little Avesta’), into which was inserted a Zoroastrian doxology, the Nam Stayisn (‘It is meet to praise the Name [of Ohrmazd]...””), and composed in Middle Persian works of moral and theological instruction (andarz). His son, Zarduët, carried on the work,

authoring

a concise,

clear catechism,

the Cidag andarz

i

pöryötkesäan (‘Select Counsels of the Ancient Sages’’)’. These measures were at once innovative and in conformity with Zoroastrian tradition. The ordeal was sanctioned amongst the early Iranians: it corresponds to, but is not identical to, Christian martyrdom. Similarly, the popularization of Avestan scripture through the composition of simple prayers and treatises follows the old practice of ’

KARTIR AND MANI

183

providing a Zand, or vernacular translation and commentary, to the sacred madra. The Avesta itself provides a doxology, the Fravardné (“I profess...”) of Yasna 12; but Adurbad’s Pahlavi composition is a strong and lucid declaration of faith to match the contemporary Nicene Creed. In none of Adurbad’s activity can one discern any attempt at proselytism, only the desire to confirm Iranians in their own faith. He met

the Christians

measure

for measure,

but

did

not

overstep

the

bounds of his own tradition. Adurbad is remembered as the greatest Säsänian priest; the highpriests of Fars of the ninth century who compiled most of the surviving Pahlavi books are numbered amongst his descendants, and a Parsi scholar of this writer’s acquaintance once described the model of gentle breeding in his parents’ generation as “‘a mixture of Adurbad 1 Amahraspandan and Queen Victoria.” Kartir, who had earlier championed the faith in circumstances at least as difficult, met a strangely different fate in the annals of the faith. He served under every Sasanian monarch from the ascent of the dynasty to the reign of Narseh, and left four great

inscriptions,

more

than

most

kings,

at Sar

MaShad,

Naq§-e

Rostam, the Ka‘aba-ye Zardoët, and Naq§-e Rajab, in which he records the deeds of a powerful career and the multitude of titles he received from a succession of appreciative monarchs®. No subsequent high priest to our knowledge left inscriptions in rock, but the practice was abandoned by the middle Sasanians; what is striking is that there exists no known reference to this exceptionally important high priest in any surviving Zoroastrian Pahlavi book; one may speculate that he amassed more power than the throne would subsequently tolerate in any subject. : But

he achieved

immortal

fame,

ironically,

in the annals

of the

religion he hated beyond all others; the Manichaeans excoriate him by name in their writings from Parthia to Egypt as the evil Magus who engineered the arrest and murder of their Apostle of Light, Mani, and scholarly attention has focussed upon the intense rivalry between the two religious leaders®. Kartir’s inscriptions are remarkable in the corpus of Iranian epigraphy for their narrative of a spirit-journey to the other world to affirm the truth of the Zoroastrian faith. Such visionary accounts are of great antiquity amongst the Indo-European peoples; in Iranian religion, Kartir’s vision finds precedent in the Arda Wiraz Namag (“The Book of the Righteous Wiraz”) and in experiences ascribed to-the Prophet Zarathustra himself?°. Zoroastrianism was born in the remote northern regions of Central Asia, and Kartir’s is the

184

JAMES R. RUSSEL

most recent of a series of spirit-journeys recorded in Iranian literature which in their details correspond in many particulars to rituals of Siberian

shamanism

in recent

times.

Iranians

and

Siberians

are,

of

course, neighbors whose mutual relations go back for millennia!!. But little detailed comparison of Kartir’s vision to shamanist spirit-journeys has been undertaken as yet, despite the evident importance of this form of religious experience in third-century Iran. From the hindsight of Adurbäd’s policy against the Christians, we should also suppose that there were analogous,

shamanist elements in Mani’s mission to which

Kartir was responding in kind. Let us seek these shamanic features after a brief consideration of Mäni’s career. It coincided, like Kartir’s, with the beginnings of the Säsänian dynasty; according to the Middle Persian Sabuhragan, Mani had his first revelation in the second year of the reign of Ardasır I, that is, in A.D. 228-9; his second revelation, the one with which his public

career began, came in the year of the coronation of Säbuhr I, to whom the book is dedicated, in 243 !2. Mani declared himself in the same text a universal prophet, heir in this final age to the Buddha, Zoroaster, and Jesus. He was, obviously, an ingenious politician, and this claim seems

to have appealed to Säbuhr, who was building a vast cosmopolitan empire, and who probably dabbled in apocalypticism like most of his contemporaries. Mani was received at Court, doubtless to the immense consternation of the Magi. They had reason to feel threatened; for all his claims to a multinational patrimony, Mani was an Iranian preaching an Iranian religion which was meant to take the place of their own. He calls his teaching dö bun, ‘‘dualist”, and Diocletian regarded it as a

“Persian: cult? The self-styled Apostle of Light claimed to be a doctor, presumably working cures by spiritual as well as temporal means. One is reminded, not only of Jesus, but of ZarathuStra, who is supposed to have healed the favorite horse of Kavi Vistäspa, his royal patron!*. He received his revelation and subsequent teachings from a spirit-twin; luminous and glorious to behold, called in Middle Persian Narjamig, in Greek Syzygos, who was apparently everywhere and always with him. Such a twin was not unique to Mant; men and gods all had them'!5. In one Manichaean Parthian text, the so-called “Zoroaster Fragment”, the great Iranian prophet receives the spiritual call from his “own self” (griw wxebe), possibly the same kind of being as Mani’s Twin!®; both resemble the daénd of the Avesta, the girl formed of one’s conscience,

KARTIR AND MANI

185

whom mortal men meet when they ascend after death to cross the Bridge of the Separator. Mani was not only in contact with the spirit-world in an intimate way; he could travel there and take others with him. According to Ebn al-Nadim, Mani’s mother dreamt that he was taken off this earth in what one scholar has called ‘‘ecstasies”. It seems that Mänr’s spiritual essence travelled on Church business: when Mar Ammö, despatched to the East to evangelize there, was having a difficult interview with the local goddess who refused to let him in, saying she had enough religions to deal with already, the missionary prayed before the Sun for two days, and Lo! pas fréstag paydag bud “then the Apostle was visible” with useful advice on what books to read. (Lapp shamans of recent times boasted tutelary souls which they sent to scout buyers in advance at distant market towns.) Mani also showed pad warz “by miraculous power” the Paradise of Light to a petty king, Mihrsah of Mesene!’. Again, he appears to mirror the deeds of Zarathuëtra, who has a visionary dream himself in the Zand i Vohüman Yasn; the Amoasa Spanta Ardwahist gives Kavi ViStaspa the mang potion in order that the latter may see the invisible realms. The journey of ZarathuStra to Eran Véj, in the course of which he parts company with his fellow travellers and proceeds alone under four branches of a river, has also been interpreted by Corbin as a mystical voyage, though this is perhaps less likely 18. Kartir probably responded first by organizing priestly opposition to Mani; the Manichaean text M 6031 V describes how gyr(d){y}(r) mowbed, Kartir the high-priest, plotted with his ‘dy’wrn “helpers” against Mani. Like Mani, he accompanied Sabuhr I on the latter’s military expeditions, and wherever the royal armies went he increased Zoroastrian foundations and brought insubordinate clergy into line (presumably, under his authority). Mani claimed to represent the perfection of all the older prophetic teachings; Kartir boasts that he caused the non-Zoroastrian faiths to be smitten (MHYTN: zad). The list includes

Jews,

Christians,

Manichaeans

(zandik),

and

Buddhists

(Saman) !°. Kartir’s narrative of his spirit-journey appears to answer Manrs other claims from within the Zoroastrian tradition, in a framework which, as suggested above, finds precedent in the probably ancient narrative recorded

later in the Arda

Wiraz Nämag.

That book, when

read aloud imrecent times, deeply chastened Parsi Zoroastrians with its

186

JAMES R. RUSSEL

descriptions of Hell?°; Kartir’s own visit to the next world, recorded in

his inscriptions, could scarcely have failed similarly to impress his contemporaries. The fullest surviving record is found in Kartir’s inscription at Sar MaShad (KSM); there is also a bas-relief there which will be considered presently. The high-priest first reviews the merits of his service to the gods, and asks that on the strength of his merits he be shown the “‘side of those who have passed on”, both Paradise and Hell. He desires to meet his own daënä. He makes something called an ‘dwyn mhly, which Skjervo suggests is a “ritual manthra” (€wén mahr). At this point, lysyks (scil. rahig ‘“‘child’’?) mentioned in the *manthra begin to narrate the vision. A spytk'n (probably *spédagan, ‘‘white”) prince on horseback appears, then a man on a golden bzmy *throne, and Kartir’s likeness (hangirb). The likeness is accompanied by a hmlhyky, possibly an accompanying page (*hamrahig). Then Kartir meets a luminous woman, who greets him. This is, undoubtedly, his daénd. They set off down the road to the East, i.e., towards the place of the rising Sun, and meet yet other white princes, who hold scales (of judgement). Then they come to the edge of a horrid pit full of noxious creatures. The /ysyks are afraid to proceed, but they are told (it is not clear by whom) to cross the narrow bridge and report what they see. Kartir’s likeness, his daënä, and another prince cross the Bridge of the Separator, which widens hospitably, and behold the palaces (ayvans) of Heaven; they ascend

farther, and

take nourishment,

like the soul of the righteous

man in the Avestan Hädhöxt Nask at the end of his arduous journey?!. Gignoux calls this narrative of a journey to heaven in life “the shamanic voyage, in the absence of a more adequate term’’??. The stated purpose of Kartir’s journey is to vindicate the truth of divine justice, and, by extension, of the Zoroastrian faith Mani challeged with his own visionary claims. Lucian’s Menippus suggests that the Magi had long enjoyed the reputation of being able to take their charges to Hades and back again, by means of certain chants and rituals?$. But for a trip to be really necessary,

shamans

either obtain

information

from

the

spirit-world or perform some service for the souls of others: either healing of a sick member of the community, or securing entry into heaven for one newly departed?*. The latter two functions may explain a feature of the bas-relief accompanying KSM and a curious title Kartir enjoyed under several Sasanian monarchs. According to Vidévdat 7.44, he who cures with the manthra is the most efficacious of physicians; it is by manthras that Kartiir seems to ’

KARTIR AND MANI

187

journey, just as shamans travel by the sound of drumbeats and songs. It has been suggested, indeed, that Kartir is not the priest’s proper name, but an honorific meaning “efficacious”?$. The bas-relief at Sar MaShad shows king Bahram II, from whom Kartir received the title Böxt ruwän 1 Warahran “Saved is the Soul of Varahran [i.e., Bahram)’, fighting two lions. Behind him stand Kartir, a woman (probably his daenä), and another, unidentified person, maybe the *hamrahig?°. There are no lions mentioned in what survives of KSM, but supernatural lions might guard important bridges— one recalls the ferocious, bull-eating felines at Persepolis— and if the relief depicts the visionary journey, then it is suitable that it should portray its most climactic episode, the crossing of the Bridge of the Separator, the point at which the terrified /ysyks must be forced to go ahead with their recital of what they see. King Bahram, probably to be identified with one of the Sahriyaran of the inscription, is crossing over the pit of Hell to Heaven; therefore, his soul is saved. And Kartir is the one who has assured it, hence the honorary epithet of böxt ruwän i Varahran. It seems no coincidence that this is the king who ordered the execution of Mani. (One notes that Xusro I was to receive from the Magi the epithet anösarwan “of immortal soul”, given to those departed souls who are in Paradise, for his killing of the heresiarch Mazdak.) Bahram II is the last king mentioned in KSM; the relief is unlikely to have been made very long after the death of the king, and was probably done before it, to extol the reigning monarch and to underscore the great victory over Mani. Bahram is, tactfully, allowed to kill a few lions; he is not an entirely passive client of the pious Kartir. But it is the latter who has secured his entry into Heaven thanks to his militant espousal of the true faith,

Zoroastrianism. Kartir challenged Mäni’s use of the shamanic spirit-journey, with all the skills and spirit-familiars it involves, by claiming to have taken a far more important shamanic trip himself. Mani has his Narjamig; Kartir has his Daéna.

Such spirit-familiars, often shining, female, and white,

are frequently encountered in shamanic cultures?’. Kartir and Mani both present themselves as spiritual healers, like shamans elsewhere; both claim the ability to travel through a dualist cosmos of heaven and hell which resembles that of other, more

recent shamanist

narratives.

Kartir’s journey is described through /ysyks who are somehow connected to his *manthra. One has the impression that a group of specially-trairfed assistants recited the journey whilst the priest lay in their midst in a trance. Such active audiences are familiar enough from

188

JAMES R. RUSSEL

recent shamanic meetings. The meaning of the word /ysyk is not known, but it resembles Pahlavi rahig “child, page”. If this is a retinue of pre-pubescent boys, it may be connected somehow to the transvestitism

common

amongst

shamans.

(Kartir

himself,

one

notes,

is

always portrayed as beardless, but so are some Säsänian kings.) The shaman

is also

a showman;

and a large audience would

have ensured

proper awe at the procedure. Kartir seems to emphasize that the figures his likeness met were white, perhaps because black is the color of Ahriman. There is also in Siberia a careful distinction between black and white shamans, corresponding to the difference in our own culture

between black and white magicians?®. Mani’s own electi wore white, as did the sect of the sepid-jämagän of early Islamic Iran. There were many other grounds on which Mani might be attacked by Kartir, beside his shamanic prowess: to later Zoroastrians, removed from the personality of Mäni himself, the perversion by the zandiks of dualist doctrine represented a far more insidious threat to the Good Religion than the false Apostle of Light’s personal adventures. Though the term zandik, ‘‘(false) interpreter’ is used in Kartir’s own inscriptions, he does not address himself to doctrinal disputes. Bahram himself seems to have been concerned, as it appears from their final interview,

more with Mani’s powers as a physician than with any other feature of his activity or teaching, and it may be assumed that Kartir noted the king’s priorities. The high priest of the Sasanian Empire scarcely addressed Mani’s universalist claims beyond à rather aristocratic display of xenophobia. The third-century Zoroastrians do not appear to have responded to Mani’s espousal of the written word with any known immediate outpouring of texts of their own; it seems that Christianity provided the main impetus for the composition of theological works and the invention of a clear script for Avestan, probably inspired by Armenian. Manichaeism was a heresy more than it was an alien faith, and learned opposition to it might provoke undesirable speculation and re-examination of Zoroastrian doctrine by the Magi themselves. Christianity, an alien creed, could be refuted without any reconsideration of values within Zoroastrianism itself. It was the shamanic journey, with its ancient roots in the Iranian religious tradition, which impressed Mani’s contemporaries in Iran most of all, and thus became the thing

by which the Archmage daënä!] of the king?°.”

Kartir sought “to catch the conscience [scil.

KARTIR AND MANI

189

NOTES ' Jalal Al-e Ahmad, Plagued by the West (Gharbzadegi), tr. from the Persian by Paul

Sprachman, Bibliotheca Persica, Modern Persian Literature Series, ed. by E. Yarshater, No. 4, Delmar, NY: Caravan Books, 1981, 10 n. 24. * On Parthian claims to Achaemenian descent, see N.C. Debevoise, A Political History of Parthia, Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1938, new impression 1969, 10, 157; on coins, 196, also M. Colledge, Parthian Art, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1977, 14. For the Säsänian coin type, see P.O. Harper, “Thrones and Enthronement Scenes in Sasanian Art,” /ran 17, 1979, 49-64. The ninth-century Zoroastrian Dénkard attributes to Valax$ the Arsacid the first redaction of the Avesta. It is not specified which of the four kings named Vologases is meant. See D.M. Madan, ed., Dinkard, Bombay, 1911, 412.3-415.3, on successive editions of the Zoroastrian sacred text, tr. by R.C. Zaehner, Zurvan, A Zoroastrian Dilemma, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1955 (repr. New York: Biblo & Tannen, 1972), 8. The comments of K. Schippmann, Grundzüge der parthischen Geschichte, Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1980, 95-6, on Parthian religion seem unnecessarily guarded. The theory of a shift from legitimacy of conquest to legitimacy by descent is advanced by J. Neusner, “Parthian Political Ideology,” Jranica Antiqua 3, 1963, 40-59. On lines of continuity from the Arsacid

period to Sasanian

Achaemenids?”

times, see E. Yarshater,

“Were

in La Persia nel Medioevo, Accademia

the Sasanians

Heirs to the

Nazionale dei Lincei, Quaderno

N. 160, Rome, 1971, 517-531. 3 French tr. of the Arabic text is given in M. Grignaschi, ““Quelques spécimens de la littérature sassanide dans les bibliothèques d'Istanbul,” Journal Asiatique 254, 1966, 70 with n. 10. Mas‘udi’s citation is noted by V.I. Lukonin, “Kartir i Mani,” Vestnik Drevnei

Istorii, 1966, 3. * One Rabbi lamented at the death of the last Parthian king, Ardavan V, that “the ties

of friedship have been broken”, and there were occasional persecutions of Jews and prohibitions of Sabbath observance and other practices, sporadically enforced, in the Sasanian period. But the former were often connected to messianic uprisings or the unsettled conditions of war, and Jews actually fared rather better than many other religious minorities, since they did not proselytize amongst Zoroastrians and had no extra-territorial loyalties. See J. Neusner, “Jews in Iran,” in E. Yarshater, ed., The Cambridge History of Iran, Vol. 3(2), Cambridge University Press, 1983, 913-4; and A. Christensen, L’Iran sous les Sassanides, 2nd ed., Copenhagen: Ejnar Munksgaard, 1944, 266. 5 See J.R. Russell, “Government

Fellowship Lectures, IV. Advocacy of the Poor: The

Maligned Sasanian Order,” Journal of the K.R. Cama Oriental Institute 53, 1986, 123-41. The Sasanians established a modus vivendi with the religious minorities of their Empire, of which the Ottoman millet system may be a remote survival; see R.N. Frye, The History of Ancient Iran, Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft,

3 Abteilung, 7 Teil, Munchen:

C.H.

Beck’sche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1984, 318-9. 6 See S.P. Brock, “Christians in the Sasanian Empire: A Case of Divided Loyalties,” Studies in Church History 18, 1982, 8-9. 7 The composition of the prayer Nam Stäyisn is attributed to Adurbad in the Rahbar-e Din-e Zardosti of Dastur Erachji Sohrabji Meherjirana (1826-1900), tr. and commentary by Dastur

Dr. F.M.

Kotwal,

A Guide

to the Zoroastrian

Religion,

Studies

in World

Religions 3, Harvard University, Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1982, 115. It is required to be recited several times daily. On the catechism, see H. Corbin, “Le Livre des Conseils de Zardusht,”

Professor Poure Davoud Memorial

Volume, Il, Bombay:

Iran League,

1951,

190

JAMES R. RUSSEL

132. On the ordeal, see Christensen, op. cit., 304, and M. Boyce, Zoroastrians, Their Religious Beliefs and Practices, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1979, 118. In Wizidagihä i Zädspram (‘The Selections of Zädspram”, a ninth-century text containing much Avestan lore), 21, Zarathuëtra himself undergoes painful ordeals including molten metal and the partial dismemberment of his own body. Such symbolic dismemberment is an essential part of initiation for the shaman in many cultures, cf. J. Halifax, Shamanic Voices: A Survey of Visionary Narratives, New York: E.P. Dutton, 1979, 13-5; M. Eliade, Zalmoxis, the Vanishing God, Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1972, repr. 1986, 41. 8 The four inscriptions, large parts of which are identical to each other, are published in a synoptic edition with German tr. by M. Back, Die Sassanidischen Staatsinschriften, Acta Iranica 18, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1978, 384-489. There is a portrait of Kartır over the inscription at Naqÿ-e Rajab, which is near a relief depicting ArdaSir I and Ohrmazd. P. Gignoux published and discussed the inscription at Sar MaShad (KSM) in “L'inscription de Kartir à Sar MaS$had,’ Journal Asiatique, 1968, 387-418. Considerable lacunae have been filled by minute comparison with the parallel inscriptions, and a new translation offered, by P.O. Skjerve, ““Kirdir’s Vision’: Translation and Analysis,” Archaeologische Mitteilungen aus Iran 16, 1983, 269-306. There is a relief at KSM which, it is suggested, illustrates the narrative of the inscription; it is discussed in detail in the text. Boyce, op. cit., 109-16, provides a summary of Kartir’s career. ° In addition to Lukonin, op. cit., cf. W. Hinz, ““Mani and Kardèër,” in La Persia nel Medioevo, 485-499. Various reasons for Kartir’s absence from later Pahlavi sources are

proposed in the subsequent discussion recorded on pp. 500-2; Prof. Yarshater suggests Xusrö I “tampered with” the sources in the interests of his own reforms (which involved the creation of a power base of many small landowners instead of a few powerful families); those revisions are the sources that have come down to us. This seems most plausible; one might add that kings even before Xusrö might have found the example of Kartir unsuitable. It was his concentration of power, one thinks, rather than his particular religious experiences, which made him appear dangerous to subsequent kings; for spiritjourneys and shamanistic ordeals were not expunged from written Pahlavı tradition. 19 The analogues to visions or descriptions of the next world in Zoroastrian literature are mentioned by Gignoux, op. cit., and further discussed by Skjærva. Arda Wiraz is said in the Pahlavi text to have underaken his perilous spirit voyage in the days of Adurbäd i Amahraspandän, but this detail is probably the result of a late redaction; on the antiquity of the material in the Arda Wiraz Nämag, a Pahlavi text, see J.R. Russell, “The Platonic

Myth of Er, Armenian Ara, and Iranian Ardäy Wiräz,” Revue des Etudes Armeniennes N.S. 18, 1984, 477-85. For the connections of the Arda Wiraz Nämag with other Zoroastrian

texts

and

its possible

indirect

influence

on

Dante,

see

most

recently

F.

Vahman, Arda Wiraz Nämag, The Iranian ‘‘Divina Commedia’, Scandinavian Institute of Asian Studies Monograph Series No. 53 (Copenhagen), London and Malmö: Curzon Press, 1986, 8-9. 11 Cf. P. Gignoux, ‘Corps osseux et âme osseuse’, essai sur le chamanisme dans l'Iran ancien,” Journal Asiatique 267, 1979, 40-79; see also n. 22, infra. The shamanistic cultures of modern Siberia appear to have preserved many extremely ancient usages unchanged, notably of the Andronovo culture from which, it is hypothesized, the Avestan people came: Andronovo death banquets, for example, appear to have resembled those of the twentieth-century peoples of the Yenisei basin (see M. Gryaznov, The Ancient Civilization of Southern Siberia, New York, 1969, 91).

12 Cf. S.H. Tagizadeh, “The Early Sasanians,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 11, 1943-6, 6; H.-C. Puech, Le Manichéisme: Son Fondateur, Sa Doctrine, Musée Guimet, Bibliothèque de Diffusion, Tome LVI, Paris: Civilisations du Sud, 1949,

20. 13 Cited by Birüni apud Lukonin, op. cit., from A.E. Schmidt, “Materialy po istorii

KARTIR AND MANI

191

Srednei Azii i Irana,” Uchénnye Zapiski Instituta Vostokovedeniya Akademii Nauk SSSR 16, 1958, 478. On dualism and other Iranian aspects of Mänrs teaching, see G. Widengren, ‘‘Manichaeism and its Iranian Background,” Camb. Hist. Iran 3(2), Ch. 27-a, 965-90, esp. 973, citing text M 5794.

'* Text M 566 I, cited by L.J.R. Ort, Mani, A Religio-Historical Description of His Personality, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1967, 96-101; see also Hinz, op. cit., 490. 15 Ort, op. cit., 77-95; R. Cameron, A.J. Dewey, ed. and tr., The Cologne Mani Codex “Concerning The Origin of His Body”, Society of Biblical Literature Texts and translations 15, Early Christian

Literature Series 3, Missoula, Montana:

Scholars Press, 1979,

18-23. Rather unfortunately, the late Prof. W.B. Henning chose to trivialize the Twin as evidence of Mani’s “split personality” (“The Doctrines and Styles of the Teaching of Mani,”

Asia Major

N.S.

3.2, 1952, 208-9);

in Zoroaster,

Politician

or

Witch-Doctor?,

Oxford, 1951, Henning had ridiculed in a similar fashion H.S. Nyberg’s sensible and generally well-founded thesis that ZarathuStra’s vision and practices incorporated the ecstatic techniques of early shamanism; Henning’s Zoroaster appears as a kind of precursor of the rationalist philosophers, protesting, what is more, against a “pre-existing monotheism” for the existence of which there is not a shred of evidence. 1° Text

M

7 I Vii

- V ii, text

in F.C.

Andreas,

W.B.

Henning,

Mitteliranische

Manichaica aus Chinesisch-Turkestan WI, Sitzungsberichte der Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1934, g 82-118, repr. in M. Boyce, A Reader in Manichaean Middle Persian and Parthian, Acta Iranica 9, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1975, text ay, p. 108: “If you will, I shall show ye from the testimony of the Primal Fathers. The righteous savior Zarahuët, when that he spake together with his own soul: ‘Grievous the drunkenness in which thou slumberest, wake thou and behold me! Hail to thee from the realm ofjoy, for I am sent on thine account.’ It spake further, saying ‘I am that very Srösäw, the harmless and delicate child, now commingled and suffering, who am guide from the bosom of death.’ Zarahust, giving greeting, asked the primal word: ‘What of my limbs?’ ‘The power of the Living Ones and the health of the great worlds upon thee, from thy place. Follow me, O child of gentleness, and place the diadem of radiance upon thine head, child of princes, rendered poor, who beggest now in every place...’ Shelley probably read a legend such as this before he wrote “Ere Babylon was dust,/The Magus Zoroaster, my dead child,/Met his own image walking in the garden./That apparition, sole of men, he saw./For know that there are two worlds of life and death...”

(Prometheus

Unbound,

lines 191-5). A

description of Hades follows. Significantly, the encounter with one’s Twin is unique to prophets; and it precedes a vision of the next world, probably a journey with one’s spirit as guide. ö 17 Ort, 7 (citing Flügel), 65-6 (quoting Text M 2 R II), and 99 (quoting Text M 47). On the Lapp shaman’s spirit, called sueje (cf. possibly New Persian saya ‘‘shadow”), cf., U. Holmberg, Finno-Ugric and Siberian Mythology, Vol. 4 of J.A. MacCulloch, ed., The Mythology of All Races, 1925, repr. New York: Cooper Square Publishers, 1964, 284-5. 18 Cf. H. Corbin, Spiritual Body and Celestial Earth, Bollingen Series 91: 2, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1977, 32-5; Corbin’s interpretations of Zoroastrian texts tend to impose upon them the esoteric meanings of selected Shia writings of a later period. Such interpretations can be neither proved nor disproved by conventional academic means. In the Zand i Vohuman Yasn, the xrad i harwisp-agahih (“wisdom of omniscience”) is shown to Zarathustra as a pleasant dream (xwamn i xwas), cf. B.T. Anklesaria, ed. and

tr. Zand-i Vohüman Yasn, Denkard Book 7.4.83-6 and 47.27, tr. by M. Molé, La l'Institut d'Etudes Iraniennes 58-9, 120-1. 19 KKZ

Jahrbucher

Bombay, 1957, 2, 9. On the vision of Kavi Vistäspa, cf. The Pahlavi Riväyat accompanying the Dädistän i Denig Ch. légende de Zoroastre selon les textes pehlevies, Travaux de de l’Université de Paris 3, Paris: Librairie Klincksieck, 1967,

9-10°et al., in Back, op. cit., 414-5. R. Austerlitz, “Shaman,”

58, 1986,

143-4, presents possible etymologies

of the word

Ural-Altaische

shaman

from

192

JAMES R. RUSSEL

Tungus and Gilyak, regarding the traditional derivation from Pali Samana as motivated by little more than a “proprietary interest” onthe part of students of religion. He also suggests the word shaman is a recent one, since “terms from the area of religion may tend to replace each other at a speedier rate than other, -unmarked vocabulary items.” Both propositions deserve strenuous criticism. The corpus of Zoroastrian terminology in modern Parsi usage is mostly Pahlavi, with some Avestan; and most other great religions also retain many archaisms. Austerlitz does not account at all for the presence of the term shaman in Khotanese and Middle Persian; he utterly misrepresents the role of the North Asian Buddhist monks, who performed terrifying dances in masks, contacted spirits, and uttered spells, quite like the shamans to whom he would contrast them— they were by no means mere “mendicant monks”. René de Nebesky-Wojkowitz, Oracles and Demons of Tibet, Graz, 1975, esp. 538-53, gives a much more reliable description of shamanizing Buddhist monks which should be taken into account before disparaging the field of comparative religion. 20 Dastur Hoshangji, quoted by M. Haug, E.W. West, The Book of Arda Viräf, Bombay and London, 1872, repr. Amsterdam: Oriental Press, 1971, lv. 21 J have relied throughout on the readings of Skjerve, op. cit. 22 P, Gignoux, “Les voyages chamaniques dans le monde iranien,” Monumentum G. Morgenstierne, Vol. I, Acta Iranica 21, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1981, 245. The term is applied more appropriately to Iranian spirit-journeys than to many, as the word shaman is Iranian in origin. Sanskrit sramana- is found in Strabo as sarmanai (pl.) and in Hieronymus as samanaei; Arabic shamaniyya comes from a Prakritic form (cf. E.C. Sachau, Alberuni’s India, London, 1910, 261 n. to p. 21), probably through Sogdian smn and the Middle Persian form smny of Kartir’s own inscription. It is from Middle Iranian or early New Persian that the term comes to Siberia, like the name of the good Creator of

the earth, Kudai (cf. Pahlavi xwaday), who opposes the evil spirit Erlik (cf. N.A. Alekseev, Shamanizm tyurkoyazychnykh norodov Sibiri, Novosibirsk: Izdatel’stvo “Nauka”, 1984, 39). The name Ahura Mazda itself is found in Mongolian shamanist poetry as Khan Hormuzta Tengri; the Emperor Cingis was believed to have been the incarnation of this white Tengri (sky-god) of the firmament (see W. Heissig, ‘‘Eastmongolian Folkpoetry,” Folklore Studies 9, 1950, 162, 174; I am indebted for a reference to this article to my colleague, Professor Alex Wayman). It is unlikely that the name, used in such sacral context, came from a non-Mazdean source such as Khotan, where the name of the Wise Lord as an epithet of the Sun became the name of that luminary but was otherwise forgotten. 23 Lucian, Menippus 6: “it seemed best to me to go to Babylon and to present myself before one of the Magi, the pupils and successors of Zoroaster. I heard of their opening the gates of Hades and guiding safely thither and back again anybody they wanted, through certain chants [Gk. epöidais; cf. Kartir’s *manthras] and rituals (teletais).” 24 In July 1860, Radloff witnessed this ceremony of an Altai Turkic tribe at Lake Kengi: The shaman had to lead the soul of a woman forty days dead to the next world. The souls there refused to accept her, so the shaman offered them.brandy, and as they became drunk and happy “gelingt es ihm endlich, die neue Seele bei ihnen einzuschmuggeln” (cited by K. Meuli, ““Scythica,” Hermes 30, 1935, 124). ?$ On the passage from the Vidévdat, see B. Lincoln, Myth, Cosmos, and Society,

Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1986, 101. The Altaic “black” shaman rides over a limitless yellow steppe in the underworld, crying out to his audience “By the power of songs we cross it!” (M. Eliade, Shamanism, Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy, Bollingen Series 76, Princeton,

1964, 201). On

Kartir as an honorific,

see C. Brunner,

Sasanian

Stamp Seals in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, n.d., 141. A. Maricq, “Res

gestae Divi Saporis,” Classica et Orientalia, Paris, 1965, 41-2, notes that in the Greek version (line 66) of the KZ inscription the initial K- is larger than the other (majuscule) letters, perhaps as a sign of respect.

KARTIR AND MANI

193

7° See P. Calmeyer, H. Gaube, “Eine edlere Frau als sie habe ich nie gesehen,” Papers in Honour of Professor Mary Boyce, Vol.1, Acta Iranica 24, Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1985, 43-

60. 27 Shamans ofthe Siberian Gol’d tribe have a small female supernatural consort called an ayami who teaches them how to shamanize; the Hudson Bay Eskimo shaman Igjugarjuk, interviewed by Rasmussen, claimed to have been helped in the lonely ordeal of initiation by a white young woman, the “lovely and beautiful helping spirit” Pinga, cf. Halifax, op. cit., 67, 120-3. The Iranian concept has a democratic aspect other shamanic cultures do not necessarily share: every man has in Zoroastrianism his daénd (cf. G. Widengren, ‘La rencontre avec la daenä,” Orientalia Romana 5, Rome,

1983, 41-79), just

as Mani believed everyone has his Twin, but most of us do not meet our conscience personified until after physical death. In this respect Kartir and Mani were set apart, at least, from their fellows.

78 See M. Eliade, “Recent Works

on Shamanism,

A Review

Article,” History of

Religions 1.1, Chicago, 1961, who suggests white shamanism was more typical of a pastoral society, than black; also Eliade, Shamanism, op. cit., 184 ff. This distinction might have applied also to the “Avestan” people of Zarathustra, who condemned the violence of the rites of the daéva-worshippers. Many of these, as it seems, practiced cattle-stealing; their way of life was, thus, inimical to that of the pastoralists. Certain practices continued which perhaps reflect violent or necromantic attitudes of the black shamans of primeval days. One custom practiced down to recent times by Mongol and Buryat shamans, and by Iranians at Fravardigan in Biruni’s day, though condemned by the Avesta, was the burning of the juniper plant (Mongolian arca, Avestan haparasi-), cf. Heissig, op. cit., 171, citing also Sandzheev in Anthropos 23, 941. Skjærvo suggests Kartir may have taken his spirit-journey during Fravardigan, the day when the spirits of the departed are believed to visit the world of the living. This seems a plausible suggestion, and the favorable conclusion of the journey would then have coincided with the royal festivities of the vernal New Year, No Roz. On transvestitism amongst shamans, see V.N. Basilov, “Vestiges of Transvestitism in Central-Asian Shamanism,” in V. Diöszegi, M. Hoppal, eds., Shamanism in Siberia, Budapest: Akadémiai Kiado, 1978, 281-90. The Scythian manteis called Enarees (*a-nar-‘not-men?) dressed, acted, and spoke like women, according to Herodotus (Histories 1.105, cited by Meuli, op. cit., 128). 29 The Thracians and Scythians, whose way of life resembled that of the early Iranians, were famed for their shamans. Zalmoxis was regarded as a traveller to the other worlds and a sage; the Thracian Kosingas climbed a ladder to heaven (cf. J. Lindsay, The Clashing Rocks, London: Chapman & Hall, 1965, 104). Shamans return from their journeys at extremely high speeds, so that “sand and rocks fly” or “wind whistles through them” (Holmberg, op. cit., 285), and Abaris the Hyperborean travelled on his arrow so swiftly

(see

P.

Corssen,

“Der

Abaris

des

Heraklides

Ponticus,

ein

Beitrag

zu

der

Geschichte der Pythagoraslegende,” Rheinisches Museum für Philologie 67, 1912, 39) that his name became a by-word for swiftness, as in the writings of S. Gregory Nazianzenus (Panegyric on S. Basil, 21; Ep. 2 to S. Basil, in P. Schaff, H. Wace, tr., A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, Vol. 7, Grand Rapids, MI: n.d.,

402, 446).

RÜDIGER

SCHMITT

THE NAME OF DARIUS In order to explain the anomalous Greek rendering of Darius’ name, Dareios, a form which is much shorter than the Old Persian original d-a-r-y-v-u-$ /Därayavaus/, in Schmitt 1967, p. 120 n. 11, I had spoken of a haplological shortening (“haplologische Verkürzung’) of the ‘longer’ Greek

form Dareiaios,

which

is attested in Ctesias and in some,

presumably interpolated, instances of Xenophon’s Hellenica, and I had thought of an alteration within Greek. Things changed in 1973, when, in Schmitt 1973, p. 142, I understood the Greek form as reflecting a form that had been shortened already in Iranian, because by then I had come to the conclusion that any interpretation from the Greek forms alone does not make allowance for Aramaic forms like dryws or dryhws, which, in contrast to the longer drywhws, fully correspond to the Greek shortened form Dareios and thus show that this common Greek form cannot be explained as merely reflecting an Iranian shortened-form of the name *Däraya, as supposed by Schmeja, 1974, pp. 377-84; 1975, pp. 185, 186. And so I interpreted that shortened Iranian form underlying Greek Dareios and Aramaic dry(h)ws as an allegro form: Old Persian *Därayaus, which perhaps had been reduced by haplology and dissimilation within the sequence /avau/ of the full name Därayavaus (see Schmitt 1973, pp. 142sq. n. 30). The same explanation was repeated in Schmitt 1978, pp. 25sq., in a detailed discussion of the Iranian names attested in Aeschylus’ Persians. On that occasion I felt even more confident than before that one must start from an Iranian shortened proto-form *Därayaus, since not only did the Aramaic rendering, but also several other short forms attested in the collateral tradition of Old Iranian, particularly Elamite Da-ri-ya(h)u-is and Babylonian Da-(a-)ri-mus, point in the same direction!. In the time elapsed since 1978 several scholars commented upon that hypothesis in different ways: First, Isebaert 1982, p. 127, was of the opinion that he could pinpoint the source of the supposed haplology in the instrumental

case form

“Däraya(h)va < *Ddrayava(h) va’, which

gave rise to a secondary nominative *Därayaus. I must confess that this explanation seems very unlikely to me, since in the case of personal names the instrumental case is of only secondary importance and x

THE NAME OF DARIUS

195

therefore far from appropriate to serve as the “leading form or leading case” (““Leitform oder Leitkasus’’: Frei 1958, pp. 2sq.); for normally in borrowings of proper names from one language to another it is the nominative that is the ‘leading form’. For

Szemerenyi

1982,

col. 590, on

the other

hand,

the supposed

haplological form not only was ‘‘phonetically unacceptable” ?—he does not say why—, but also ignored “other external forms, especially the earliest Aramaic drws (515 B.C.) and dryws’’. But Szemerényi disregarded the fact that I had quoted the divergent Aramaic forms throughout in my discussion and with the necessary chronological references, since there can be no doubt that Aramaic drywhws the form closest to Old Persian Därayavaus or its dialectal (e.g., Median) variant *Därayavahus, is only a later and obviously archaizing remake. (A complete synopsis of the entire evidence of Aramaic forms may be found now in Schmitt 1987, pp. 150sq.) The basis for Szemerenyi’s reproach thus can only be the difference in the interpretation of the Aramaic forms themselves. For him they represent “a monophthongized Därewös (with aya > é and vau > vo) from Därayava(h)us’’. But such a form “Därewös”, which had already long been postulated by Iranian

scholars,

seems

to me

unprovable,

at least for the reign of

Darius I and thus for the time of the earliest Aramaic examples drws and dryws dated 515 and 495 B.C. (or Darius’ years 7 and 27) respectively, since we do not know for certain at which precise time monophthongization of original diphthongs or of old heterosyllabic sequences like that assumed by Szemerenyi took place. This is not to say that I completely deny the existence of such monophthongization for the Achaemenid period, but only that I for one am not sure of their precise dating. Apart from this I do not see how the attested Greek form Dareios can arise from the alleged original “Daréwos’’, since such an equation does not fully fit into the graphemic-phonemic correspondences so far established? and since there is no reason at all why *-os should not appear as Greek *-ds. In addition it must be said that Szemerenyi overlooked the crucial Aramaic form dryhws, which is attested several times in the beginning of the reign of Darius II and inter alia in the Aramaic version of the Bisutün inscription. This form dryhws, which can simply be put aside as a careless variant or some such, represents neither his “Darewös” nor his ‘“Därewa(h)ös”, but rather something like *Därayahus. And, after all, we do rot have to take into further consideration Szemerenyi’s explanation of Greek Dareiaios as the outcome of the monophthong-

196

RÜDIGER SCHMITT

ized genetive case form “Därewa(h)ös” < Old Persian Därayavahaus (which is attested and therefore should not be written °va(h)aus), since that interpretation neglects, like the one proposed by Isebaert 1982 (see above), the principle of the “leading form or leading case” in the borrowing of proper names. Darius’ name has been treated in great detail and prolixity in Werba 1982 on pages 141-53, five of which are dealing only with the etymological questions concerned. The dissimilated haplological form *Därayaus is admitted by Werba 1982, pp. 152sq., definitely for Elamite Da-ri-ya-(h)u-is, for the older Aramaic and Egyptian forms (transmitted from Iranian via Aramaic) and also for Lycian Ntarijeus-, as it had been postulated by Schmitt 1982, p. 376, who reckoned with a weakening of the unstressed vowel “/da:ray°/ > /da: riy?/”” (or better /da:rai-/) and a reinterpretation of the nominative case as the stem form of an s-formation. Werba 1982, p. 153, however, argues sharply against such a form being also the source of Greek Dareios by deducing from all the forms quoted a pronunciaton ['da: riiaus] or ['da: riieus], on the basis of which one would expect a Greek form *Darieus. Nevertheless, I at least think that the only evidence pointing to an ending *-eus is the Lycian form, which in no case can be conclusive. Suffice it to quote the corresponding dative forms Lycian Mlejeuse and Greek Mlaausei on the bilingual inscription TL 139. Anyway, Greek forms in -ieus in the vast majority of instances are ethnics and may therefore have been avoided in the case of such a royal name. And as to Greek name forms in -aus I have to state that all of them are obviously younger and come from Egyptian sources. Werba’s own interpretation of the Greek form Dareios (1982, p. 148) starts from the two-stem shortened name *Däraya-v-a- (based on the full name Däraya-vaus) or its monophthongized avatar “/Däréva/”. As one sees, he is operating like Szemerényi (on whom see above) with a monophthongization of /aya/ to /e:/. But above all it must be objected that he is reconstructing a form of this royal throne name which is attested nowhere else in all those rich traditions written in half a dozen languages that are at hand for those three Achaemind kings bearing that throne name Därayavaus. In my view the form imagined by Werba 1982, pp. 148sqq., is therefore most unlikely and very far indeed from historical plausibility, not only because entia non sunt multiplicanda, but also because we are concerned with the name of a historical figure and its (nearly) contemporary textual evidence. For that reason, although I sympathize with Werba’s principle that phonetics concerning the interr

THE NAME OF DARIUS

197

pretation of a name attested in the collateral tradition have to be taken as seriously as morphology and semantics in the main tradition (see Werba 1982, passim, esp. p. 153), I must emphatically warn against putting too much trust in data of pronunciation and accentuation of Old Persian, the other (not directly attested) Old Iranian dialects or, in the case of indirect borrowing, also of other languages, since details of the real pronunciation and accentuation of ancient languages, as is well-known, are often hidden to us.

In conclusion, after surveying all these comments on the equation of Old Iranian *Därayaus and Greek Dareios, I can discover neither any decisive objection against my previous statement(s) nor any other interpretation that explains the facts in a better way, including also the criterion of economy. The only weak point of the supposed equation seems to me to be the Greek ending, which leads us to ask under what circumstances would Greek -os come from Iranian *-aus? And to that question I for my part have a simple answer: Since there are only very few Greek words ending in -aus/ -aüs/-aüs, none of which* would have made a good model for the declension of the foreign king’s name, the form *Därayaus had to be integrated into another declension class. It was therefore fitted into the common class of the o-declension, presumably on the analogy of the Iranian u-stems like magus ‘“Magian”, Kurus “Cyrus”, Hindus “Indus (river or province)”, which are regularly rendered as Greek o-stems (magos, Kyros, Indos). However, I think that there is additional evidence which may support the idea previously submitted by myself a little farther: namely the name of the town or place Dariausa in Media, which is listed in Ptolemy’s Geography 6, 2, 12 with the coordinates 87°30’/38°30’ and

thus is located northwest of Ecbatana/Hamadan (which has the coordinates 88°/37°45’). There is no doubt that this name contains the throne name of the Dariuses and therefore that this village was a settlement founded by one of those kings, in all probability by Darius I°. Therefore the name may in principle be compared with toponyms containing the Greek form of the king’s name, as they are attested in: 1) Dareium, the name of a place in the Parthian district Apavortene (Pliny, Natural History 6, 46); 2) Dareion para ten Mysian, the name of a village on the banks of the Sea of Marmora near the Mysian frontier (mentioned in the Athenian Tribute Lists [A 9, Il. 109sq.] for the year 425/24°); and 3) Dareiou komé, the name of a place in the Hermus plain (the inhabitants Dareioukömetai being named in an inscription from Dere Köy BCH 9, 1885, pp. 397sq.)’.

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RÜDIGER SCHMITT

Rightly Metzler 1977, p. 92 n. 5, reminds the reader of other toponyms formed by adding a suffix -a to some personal name: Phradta (Plutarchus) from Parthian Frahät, *Tiridata (Teridata, Ptolemy 5, 18, 7) from Parthian Tiridät. Tigrana (Ptolemy 6, 2, 9) from Parthian *Tigran (cf. Greek Tigranes and Armenian Tigran) and some others also come to mind. It is certainly not correct, however, to trace the name Dariausa back to an Old Persian original form *Därayavahusä or the like, as Tomaschek

1901, col. 2215, and Metzler

1977, p. 92, have

done. But if one separates the suffixal -a (from Iranian *-a/-4?°) of the toponym, one gets the underlying royal name in the form *Dariaus which is a very close rendering of *Därayaus. This toponym is therefore a further indirect testimony to the existence of such a haplological form of the king’s name, one in which the ending did not have to be transformed when entering Greek.

NOTES ! Already Hüsing 1897, p. 32, had tried to reconcile all the UK Ing evidence known at his time by assuming oct forms like “Darijavus” or even “Dari(v)us” “polished down” (“abgeschliffen”) from the original Darayavaus. Though the details are surely wrong, I think, he was in principle on the right way. 2 It would have been more proper to write phonemically /da: raiauaus/, where I only take for granted that the original five-syllable form /da: -ra-ia-ua-us] (from */°ua-hus/) had become a quadrisyllabic form /da: -ra-ia-uaus/. 3 See, above all, Schmitt 1967, pp. 125-28, and 1978, pp. er 47sq. + These are the feminine nouns graüs “old woman”, naüs “ship” together with their compounds, the adjective praüs “mild”, the Attic dialect variant pads for pais “child”, and the obscure gloss taüs “great, much”. $ On the settlements founded by Darius see Metzler 1977, pp. 92sqq. © Cf. Benjamin Dean Meritt, H. T. Wade-Gery-Malcolm Francis McGregor, The Athenian

Tribute Lists. I, Cambridge,

Mass., 1939, p. 479b.

7 But, pace Metzler 1977, p. 92, there is no connection between the king’s name and the Dareitis district in Media (Dareitis khora, Ptolemy 6, 2, 6), which has its name from the tribe called Dareitai in Herodotus 3, 92, 1. 8 I do not know of any Old Iranian evidence for such a name; therefore one can only speculate on the original form, its structure and meaning. Perhaps there was a genetive construction designating the place as the “foundation of NN’.

REFERENCES Frei 1958 = Peter Frei, Die Flexion griechischer Namen Latein, Winterthur,

der 1. Deklination im

1958.

Hüsing 1897 = Georg Hüsing, Die iranischen Eigennamen in den Achämenideninschriften, Inaugural-Dissertation Königsberg in Preussen, Norden, 1897.

THE NAME OF DARIUS

199

Isebaert 1982 = Lambert Isebaert, Review of Schmitt 1978, IIJ 24, 1982, pp. 127-28. Metzler 1977 = Dieter Metzler, Ziele und Formen königlicher Innenpolitik im vorislamischen Iran, Habilitationsschrift Münster (unpublished), Münster, 1977: Schmeja 1974 = Hans Schmeja, ‘“Griechen und Iranier”, in: Manfred Mayrhofer et al. (eds.), Antiquitates Indogermanicae. Studien zur Indogermanischen Altertumskunde und zur Sprach- und Kulturgeschichte der indogermanischen Völker. Gedenkschrift für Hermann Güntert, Innsbruck, 1974, pp. 377-89. Schmeja 1975 = Hans Schmeja, ‘‘Dareios, Xerxes, Artoxerxes. Drei persische Königsnamen in griechischer Deutung (Zu Herodot 6, 98, 3)”, Sprache 21, 1975, pp. 184-88. Schmitt 1967 = Rüdiger Schmitt, “Medisches und persisches Sprachgut bei Herodot”, ZDMG 117, 1967, pp. 119-45. Schmitt .1973 Rüdiger Schmitt, ““Deiokes”, Anz. der Österreichischen Ak. Wiss.

110, 1973, pp. 137-47. Schmitt 1978 = Rudiger Schmitt, Die Jranier-Namen bei Aischylos (Iranica Graeca Vetustiora. I), Wien, 1978. Schmitt 1982 = Rüdiger Schmitt, “Iranische Wörter und Namen im Lykischen”, in: Johann Tischler (ed.), Serta Indogermanica. Festschrift für Günter Neumann, Innsbruck, 1982, pp. 373-88. Schmitt 1987 = Rüdiger Schmitt, “Rezension von Segal 1983”, Kratylos 31,

1987, pp. 145-54. Segal 1983 = J.B. Segal, Aramaic Texts from North Saggära, London, 1983. Szemerenyi 1982 = O. Szemerenyi, “Besprechung von Schmitt 1978”, OLZ 77,

1982, col. 589-90. Tomaschek 1901 = W. Tomaschek, Stuttgart, 1901, col. 2215.

“Dariausa”,

in:

Pauly-Wissowa

IV/l,

Werba 1982 = Chlodwig Werba, Die arischen Personennamen und ihre Träger bei den Alexanderhistorikern (Studien zur iranischen Anthroponomastik), Dissertation Wien, Wien, 1982.

MARTIN SCHWARTZ HOSPITALITIES AND FORMALITIES (/WAZ, ,/BRAZ) For a scholarly féte honoring Ehsan Yarshater it may not be inappropriate to offer to this Festschrift some remarks on aspects of the Iranian vocabulary pertaining to feasting and formalities, utilizing in the conclusion one of Professor Yarshater’s many contributions to Iranian studies.

W. Sundermann, in his study on the two Sogdian Manichean Letters,

discusses the important but difficult sentence II 16-17 from both the perspective of the larger framework of the text (pp. 297-299) and from the narrower linguistic viewpoint (pp. 310-311)!. For his transcription srO(ng)t pr ‘yw pzky sn’ (nd) [r]ty ößtyk ‘w(x)z(°)nd, Sundermann translates “Die Oberhäupten steigten ein wenig(?) empor, und dann steigten sie wieder herab”. Suggesting (p. 299) that the passage refers to Syrian churchmen acting as temporary guests taking brief refreshment during their wanderings through the region, Sundermann (fn. 47) equates ‘yw p’zky’' with the phrase spelled ‘yw p’zyy or I p zyy in Manichean texts, taken by W.B. Henning as ‘[ein] teilchen, ein wenig; bisschen’.

However, Sundermann quotes an alternate possibility privately offered by N. Sims-Williams: “If ‘yw p’zky’ is a compound, its basis need not be p zyy ‘bit’, but can equally well be pz ‘face, front’ ... whence a bahuvrihi * yw-p’zyy (cf. NPers. yak-rüya...) abstract ‘yw-p’zky’. The meaning of NPers. yak-ru7 ‘unanimity, sincerity, conciliation, friendship’ would fit very well here” (ellipses mine). More recently Sims-Williams has discussed the matter further: “For the meaning of ‘yw p’zky’ ... bilingual evidence is now available. In the Gowisn i griw zindag, Sogd. ‘ywp’z-yt (13401, R17) translates MPers. bzmg nn (M85, V5)l, probably ‘guests’, from bzm ‘banquet, Gastmahl’, while two passages of C3 provide the translations nywystytw (sic) ywlpl'zyt for Syr. zmyn’ ‘invited (guests), and wy' mnfc ywp zyt for ksny’ ‘stranger, guest’. This evidence suggests that pr ‘yw p’zky’ may

HOSPITALITIES AND FORMALITIES

201

mean ‘on a visit, as guest’, which would confirm Sundermann’s understanding of the context (cf. ‘die syrischen Gäste’, p. 299)2. It follows that the problematic expression in II 16 has the meaning ‘guest status’. As for the etymology, none of the interpretations equating the first part, *ew, with ‘one’ is satisfactory. An explanation *characterized by a bit’ = ‘temporary’ = ‘guest’ is too ad hoc to convince. The possibility (which has not been explicitly proposed) that ‘yw pzky is somehow ‘a (lit. ‘one’) visit’ is made difficult by the underlying substantive in Göwisn and C3, where the singularity which would be indicated by (’)yw as ‘one’ is dubious. Sims-Williams’ original comparison ‘yw-p zky': NPers. yak-ruT is not semantically apt, since yak-rii indicates ‘sincerity’ as opposed to do-ri7 ‘hypocrisy’, lit. ‘being two-faced’, ‘sincerity’ and ‘guesthood’ are semantically different. I propose that the Sogdian word for ‘guest’ is Ewpäze, abstract ewpäzakya ‘guesthood’, with no etymological relationship to éw ‘one’ (note Gershevitch, Grammar of Manichean Sogdian, §1317 has ‘ywp zky’ as a single word). I derive @wpdazé from *api-wdzaka-, whence also Khwarezmian

Sogd.

éwpazé

metathesis

bawdzak ‘guest’ and related forms, discussed below.

would

manifest

of w (Gershevitch,

the characteristic

GMS,

$$406-419),

Sogdian

whereby

regressive

*épwazé

became Ewpäze. The general frequency of w-metathesis in Sogdian makes it unnecessary, but not completely irrelevant, to cite additional factors for the metathesis in the present example as the proximity of the two labials (cf. Bw- > wß- ‘become’, with parallels in Parthian and Ossetic), or folk etymology involving temporality (‘a bit’, cf. Sundermann) or facial presentation (cf. Heb. gabbalaO pänim ‘receiving the face/presence’ = ‘greeting’). The relationship of Man. 'ywp’z- to Chr. ywpz- could represent a purely phonological parallel to Man. ‘yw /ew/ to Chr. yw, /yö/, /yu/, but popular etymology is again also possible. The proposed *epwaze, with ép- from *api- is paralleled by S. 'ypyrs k /épyrase/ ‘guardian’, which can be etymologized only as *api-grä-sa-ka*watcher’ (‚/grä/gar), cf. Sogd. wiyräs-, Khwar. ayrds- ‘to become awake’; for the semantic relationship cf. Sogd. yaré ‘guardian’, Khwar. yarak ‘awake’. That ’ypyrs’k has ép- (and not ép-) from *api- is shown by the shortening of *-yräs- to -yras-, which may be explained as due to the weight of preceding syllables (cf. the “Rhythmic Law”), as also Sogd. röp(a)s ‘fox’ < *röpas < *raupäsa-; rox$näyarôman ‘light-paradise’ < *rauxsna- garah dmäna-; and numerous forms with aCäC-

from äCäC- to which I called attention*.

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MARTIN SCHWARTZ

The development of *api (> Av. aipi-) to ép- with long & is paralleled by Ossetic,

with Oss.

tyndz-; WOss. (j)evxers-,

iv-/Oss.(j)ev-

ivtong/EOss.

in EOss.

ivtindz= /WOss.

(j)ev-

(j)evtong; EOss. irxefs- (*ivxers-)/WOss.

(j)erxæfs-; and EOss.

ivyuj-/WOss.

(j)evyuj-, where i/(j)e

reflect older *e. Since postvocalically Oss. v goes back to either Olr. b or Olr. p, it is even possible that iv-/(j)ev reflects Olr. api-, while Common Oss. æv- (and cf. EOss. ævgid/ WOss. (j)evged ‘guarantee’), like Sogd, (a)B-, Ba, Bi- (and Old Avestan albi, Young Av. aißi-, auui-, aoi-i, goes back to Olr. *abi-.

Old Iranian *api-waza-ka- (or upa-wäza-ka-) would also be the etymon of the word for ‘guest’ in the language closest to Sogdian, i.e. Khwarezmian bawdzak (bw’zk Mug. 495.7, pausal bw’zyk 23.2; Pers. mehman). The Ossetic word for ‘guest’, EOss. wazeg, WOss. iwdazeg, would be from an Olr. protoform parallel to *api-wäza-ka- but with a different preverb, 1.e. *wi-wäza-ka-*. The Avestan cognate of the foregoing forms is the superlative vazista(v = /w/) ‘nourished most excellently (by hospitality)’, which is indeed the epithet for a guest (asti-) in the Old Avestan (Gathic) passage Y. 31.22, as also in Younger Avestan, Y. 70.4 and Y. 13.2. It is precisely because Fire was the ‘Intimate/Dear Guest’ in Indo-Iranian (Av. friia-

asti-, RV priya- atithi-) that Atar is called vazista- in Old Avestan (YH. 36.3) and Young Avestan (Y. 17.11, V. 19.40, and cf. Y. 13.2). The verb which lies behind the Iranian forms is found in Vedic vajaya- ‘feed, invigorate, energize, strengthen’, again of Fire as the ‘Very Intimate/Dear Guest’: RV 8.74.1 atithim vajayantah purupriyam| agnim. With preverb abhi parallel to *api- in Sogd. ewpäze and Khwar. bowäzak, we have RV 6.5.7 asyama väjam abhi vajayantah ‘may we obtain strengthening as we strengthen (Agni)’; similarly abhi vajayantas at RV. 6.22.2, of (Indra), and for the figura etymologica 1.4.9. vajesu vajinam väjayama°. A further illustration of East Middle Iranian terminology of hospitality may also be mentioned. At Mug. 495.7 wnda’h’y bw’zk-ö’r ‘he invited the guest’ furnishes the Khwar. verb wand- ‘to invite’. In Avestan, the equivalent stem /wanda-/ is found at Y. 10.8 (mid. opt. vandaéta) with obj. Haoma, whom one should address as one would a tender son. The translation ‘address reverently/respectfully /affectionately’ also suits the frequent RV verb vanda- (mid.), which, in addition to praise, involves calling the divinities to attend the sacrifice. As part of the parallelism in the conception of cult and hospitality, the address referred to by the verb under discussion is associated with the ’

HOSPITALITIES AND FORMALITIES

203

notion

of proximity and intimacy (such as that prevailing among domestic members of a family) denoted by the Vedic priyd-, verb priand Avestan friia-, verb fri-, which secondarily designated both affection and cultic propitiation/ingratiation. That the Khwar. verb preserves the archaic meaning is shown by Khwar. bwndst */bawandast/ ‘uninvited guest’, probably from *apa-wanda- ‘to disinvite’ (cf. Khwar. bstw- ‘to rebuke’ < apa-stau- ‘to dis-praise’) and Olr. asti- ‘guest’®. The East Iranian forms for ‘guest’ from ‚/waz refer to hospitality as feeding; the older term, Av. asti- and Vedic dtithi- I take as being based

on the Indo-European institution of hospitality as gift exchange, which is reflected also in Olr. xsnu-, Gr. E€vFoc. As I intend to show in detail elsewhere, PIE had a root Aet(H) ‘to (ex)change, alternate’. IndoIranian *atHti- m. (based on a f. abstract, formed like cf. PIE *ghosti‘guest’, cf. Lat. hostire ‘make equal, reciprocate’) give *ath(i)ti- whence Olnd. atithi-, via influence of ati- ‘(going) beyond’ and/or dtati ‘wanders’. In semantic development, *atHti- would parallel Olr. *mai@manm. ‘guest’ (Pers. mehmän, Yazghulami mi@man, Pashto melma) from *maiOman- n. ‘exchange’, cf. OInd. methati ‘exchanges’, Goth. maipms ‘gift’. The latter represents one of a number of extensions of PIE *mei‘to (ex)change’, which furnish a number of parallels for the semantic developments of Aet(H)-: Olnd. atati ‘wanders (*changes place)’: Lat. meo and migrare (Gr. aueiß® ‘change, wander’, Hom. ‘engage in hospitality excange); Olnd. vyath- (*vi-ath-) ‘vacillate’, Av. &@i- (paired with duuaë-Oa- ‘fearful, *ambiguous situation’, Pahl gumanigih), aO@ri‘harm, danger, dread’, MPers. ahr- ‘dread’, Lat. atr-ox ‘dreadful’ (cf. the early attestation atrox, incerta, instabilis, Pacuvius apud Cornificius, Rhetorica ad C. Herennium 2.23): Av. mae@a. ‘change, instability, uncertainty’, miOah- ‘wrong’, ONor. mein ‘harm, calamity’; Lat. annus, Osc.-Umbr. akno- ‘year (as cyclical time)’, Lat. annus, Goth. apnam < atno-: Sogd. mé@ etc. ‘day’. For the latter example, note the variability in scale of Gr. pa ‘hour, season, year (Av. yär-), and further parallels as Eng. week, cf. Swed vicka ‘vacillate’ etc. Cf. further Proto-Semitic *San-at- ‘year’ < *sana(ya) ‘change’ with the Hebrew liturgy of evening prayer: masanneh ‘ittim u-mahälig ‘e@ ha-zzamanim ‘makes the seasons change and makes the times alternate’. To return to the Sogdian word which launched this study, in explaining éwpdzakya as ‘guest’ I rejected the meaning ‘visitor’. The fact is that the word for ‘visit’ is well attested in Sogdian: it is spelled as Chr. brz ST i 31.11 and 24.11, and figures in translations of Syr. sr ‘to visit,

inspect, look after’, and cf. S.B. ‘nfrzkr’k, Man 'nßrzkr ‘a kind of royal

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MARTIN SCHWARTZ

minister (public relations man

or overseer)7. The word

interest not only for Iranian but for the Indo-European

is of great studies, as I

shall now discuss. W.B. Henning first connected ‘nfrz with OPers. brazman-, which he translated as ‘rite, proper ceremonial style’ in light of Middle Persian and Parthian brahm ‘appearance, form, style’, whence ‘dress’, ‘ceremony

eeete.

An important service to the study of this word family was rendered by P. Thieme, who showed that brahman- is also most basically ‘Formung, Gestaltung, Formulierung’°. Building on this and on H. Osthoffs seminal suggestion combining Vedic and Old Norse, E. Polomé brought together the Olr. brazman-, WMIr. brahm, Vedic brahman-, ONor. bragr ‘poetry’, New Icelandic bragur ‘Weise, Art, Sitte, Ton, Gedicht,

Melodie’,

and ONor.

Bragi, who

seems

to have

presided over cultic song/poetry, the basic notion for all being ‘form, formation, formulation’ !°.

It may be noted that Thieme (127-129 = KS 135-137) doubted the evidence of OPers. brazman-, even though Henning had shown that this reading, and not *barzman- = Av. barasman- ‘ceremonial twigs’, is proven by the Elamite and Akkadian transcriptions (resp. pir-ra-is-mannu-ya and bi-ra-za-man-ni-i for brazmaniya); cf. now also Aram. brzmdn on a stela from Syene/Aswan dated to 458 B.C.E., which must

be /brazmadäna-/ ‘edifice in which rites take place’!!. Moreover, Thieme’s etymon for Vedic brahman- (and ONor. bragr), PIE *mreg”h-, should have yielded *braghman- etc., not brahman- through (phonological) palatalization. For brahm, Thieme suggested something like Olr. *upa-razman-. In all of this, he ignored the relevance of Sogdian ‘brz

ete: Henning later mentioned the Sogdian in connection with Khwar. äßraziy- ‘to perceive, ascertain’, without referring to his earlier idea that ‘brz etc. ‘visit, inspection’ are related to brazman-/brahman- and WMIr. brahm'!?. The consequences of the Khwar. word for these forms will be discussed below. An additional suggestion of Henning’s may now be set aside. In connection with Chr. Sogd. ‘brz- etc., Henning mentioned, as a possible further cognate, Man. Sogd. ßzn- ‘yeıporovia’ as perhaps < Olr. *brzna-'3. However, r disappears in Sogdian only between two voiceless consonants and before $ and z. Meanwhile, Man. ‘Bzn- has been identified by N. Sims-Williams with the first element (*‘benediction’) of Man. fzn-fr-, Chr. bzn-br-, bzn-b’r'+. In light of the Greco-Coptic term ’

HOSPITALITIES AND FORMALITIES

205

for the Manichean gesture for benediction, ye.potovia ‘extension of the hands’, I take Sogd. (a)ßzan- from Olr. bazana- *‘extension (of the hands/arms)’, cf. EOss. ivæzæn ‘extension’, ivezne ‘measure of two extended arms’, ivez- ‘to be extended’ etc., Olr. baz-, PIE **bheAgwhence E. Benveniste explained PIE *bheAgu-, Olr. bazu- ‘upper arm and elbow’ !S. I add here Shughni etc. vozak, Yaghnobi vösk ‘border of

a field’, and WMIr. bazm ‘feast, meal’ < Olr. bazma(n)- *a ‘spread’. It is now necessary to examine more closely the Sogd. word for ‘visit’, the semantic link between WMIr.

braziy-

‘to perceive’.

The

various

brahm, ‘form’ and Khwar. à-

spellings

for the Sogd.

word

all

represent /anß(a)rz/. Chr. ‘brz, pointed d- (not d-) at ST: 31.11, shows that this form (unlike Khwar. dfraziy- *a-brazaya-) cannot have had the preverb a- as Henning originally thought. Rather, ‘brz represents /anB(a)rz/ realized as [äß(a)rz], with the typical “Christian” indication of weakened nasal before continuant: (wrongly GMS §§ 656-658, supposing a general alteration of preverbs); thus ‘brz is the equivalent of S. nBrz and Man. "frz; cf. the less usual Chr. :mbrz [amB(a)rz] ST i 30.13. S. nf rz shows that the form was pronounced either anfarz or anßarz (cf. GMS § 138). The latter would be a zero-grade form, but the first pronunciation is more likely; in view of OPers. brazman-, WMIr. brahm, and Khwar. äßraziy-, -Barz- would be by metathesis from

*_ßraz- (cf. the examples of far- < fra-, far- < fra-, GMS §§ 437-438). Thus the Sogd. would continue a noun *hambraza-, from ham- and the

verbal root braz. Not only the formal connection of anfarz with brahm (etc.) but also their semantic connection are proved by a word occurring in the Chali dialect of Southern Tati: amberdz ‘clothing’. The word occurs in the data collected by Ehsan Yarshater'®. It is the ideal reflex of Olr. *hambräza-: for *h- cf. the occasional pronunciation hamberäz, like (h)azär ‘1000’ etc., noted by Yarshater (p. 34); for -berd- from Olr. *_brä-, cf. Chali berd ‘brother’ < Olr. *brata; for *z, cf. Chali zön- ‘to

know’, -vaz- ‘to jump’, raz ‘vineyard’, and vazi ‘play’. Formally, (h)amberäz < *ham-bräza- corresponds to Sogd. anfarz ‘visit? < ham-braza-, both from a verb ham-braz-, Semantically, (h)amberäz ‘clothes’ corresponds to ‘dress, costume’ usual for br'hm(k), 1.e. brahm(ag), in Zoroastrian Pahlavi!’ and found in Manichean Parthian

(‘they clothed themselves ... with the costume ofjoy’; ‘... arrayed in the customary dress of kings’)!®. The semantic evolution would be parallel to what Henning posited for brahm.

206

MARTIN SCHWARTZ

We may now consider the entire series of forms in their IndoEuropean perspective. The Proto-Indo-European etymon would be *bhregh-. If Khwar. äßraziy- ‘to perceive’ etc. continues the essential meaning of *bhregh-, the latter could have meant ‘to look at, regard, view’, which would also account for the meaning ‘visit’ of the Sogdian word. From this could have developed the meaning ‘form, appearance’,

cf. Gr. eiöog, Latvian weids, Sogd. yö- from PIE weid- ‘see’; cf. Lat. aspectus, and our English noun looks. These would be paralleled by nominal derivates ‘form, appearance’: Vedic brahman- ‘sacred formulation’, Av. brazman- ‘ceremony’; WMIr. brahm ‘form(ality), style, ceremony, custom’ and (= Pahl. brahmag) ‘costume, dress’, Chali (h)amberaz ‘clothing’; ONor. bragr *‘formulation, poetic art’, Icel. bragur ‘style, manner, custom, poetry, melody’, and ONor. Bragi ‘good of poetic formulation’. There is an alternate possibility that Khwar. äßraziy- represents an older factitive or middle-voice form, ‘have something appear’, with ‘appear’ as the basic meaning. In this case Sogd. anßarz would simply be *‘an appearance, a visitation’, and we would have various nominalizations with the essential meaning ‘appearance, form’. PIE Vbhregh ‘to appear, be observable, be conspicuous’ could ultimately be a development of PIE \/bher ‘to be bright’, cf. further /bherEg-/ bhreEg and ,/bher(E)k ‘to shine, be bright’!°.

I hope relevance historical researches

here to have provided a further illustration of the great of Iranian studies for Indo-European etymology and for linguistics in general, and of the important role played by the of Ehsan Yarshater.

NOTES ! “Probleme (ed.): From

der Interpretation

Hecataeus

Manichaisch-Soghdischer

to al-Huwarizmi.

Bactrian,

Pahlavi,

Briefe,” Sogdian,

in J. Harmatta Persian,

Sanskrit,

Syriac, Arabic, Chinese, Greek and Latin sources for the history of Pre-Islamic Central Asia (Collection of the sources for the history of Pre-Islamic Central Asia. Series I. Vol. 3.) Budapest, 1984, pp. 288-316. 2 BSOAS XLIX (1986), p. 588. 3 “Trano-Tocharica,” in Ph. Gignoux and A. Tafazzoli (ed.), Memorial Jean de Menasce, 1974, p. 407. * Cf. my remarks in Papers in Honour of Professor Mary Boyce, (Acta Iranica 25), II, 1985, p.486 and in R. Schmitt and P.O. Skjervo (ed.), Studia Grammatica Iranica: Festschrift für Helmut Humbach,

1986, p. 387.

> Cf. my fuller exposition in Papers ... Boyce, p. 487.

HOSPITALITIES AND FORMALITIES

207

© Cf. W.B. Henning, ZDMG CXII (1962), p. 342 n. 1. 7 See now N. Sims-Williams, The Christian Sogdian Manuscript C2. Schriften zur Geschichte und Kultur der Alten Orients, Berliner Turfantexte XII, Akad. der Wiss. der DDR, Zentralinstitut für Alte Geschichte und Archäologie, 1985, pp. 73 and 156.

8 “Brähman”, TPS 1944, pp. 108-121, esp. 117-118. ° “Brahman”, ZDMG CII (N.F. XXVI), 1952, pp. 91-129 = Kleine Schriften 1984, pp. 100-137. 10 Language, Society, and Paleoculture, Essays by Edgar Introduced by Anwar S. Dil, 1982, pp. 288-289.

C. Polome.

Selected

and

11 M. Bogoljubov, Palestinskij Sbornik, 15, (1966), pp. 40-46.

12 D.N. MacKenzie ed., A Fragment of a Khwarezmian Dictionary by the late W.B. Henning,

1971, p. II.

13 TPS, 1944, p. 118; cf. “Sogdian Tales”, BSOAS XI (1945), pp. 469-470 with n. 2. Chr

2Man2c2

mp7.

15 E. Benveniste, Etudes sur la langue ossete, 1959, pp. 62-67. 16 Grammar of Southern Tati, 1964, pp. 105, 120, 121, 138. 17 R.C: Zaehner, BSOS, IX (1938), p. 314:

18 TPS 1944, p. 109. 19 [OPers. brazmaniy(a)- was treated in detail by Fr. Mawet, Studia Iranica VII, 1978, pp. 8-22. I believe that my Sogd. and Khwar. evidence for ,/braz (whence also OPers. brazman-) points to a better explanation for WMIr. brahm(ak) than her ‚/braz ‘gleam’ (of the sheen on otter skins!). Against OPers. artäca brazmaniya as containing parallel instrumentals, note the Elamite transcription of the first word as ir-da-ha-zi supporting an OPers. contraction from *artä haca = Av. asät hacä (as I noted in the Cambridge History of Iran, II (1985), p. 689. The material in F.S. Bader, La langue des dieux, Testi linguistici 14, 1989, pp. 51-54, was noted too late for discussion here.]

A. SHAHPUR

SHAHBAZI

ON THE XYADÄY-NÄMAG The contributions to Iranian studies by Professor Ehsan Yarshater include a fine account on the X*aday-namag'!, the Sasanians’ ‘‘fullest expression’ of the Iranian national tradition”. With profound learning, critical judgement and mastery of style characteristic of his writings, Prof Yarshater investigated the origins, evolution, subject matter and style of Iran’s national history, enriching an already wealthy literature*. The following supplementary notes on the X*adäy-namag* are a fitting tribute, therefore, to a scholar who has come to typify the fulfillment of the benediction of another great Iranian—Darius°: tya kunavähy avataiy Ahuramazda ucaram kunautuv.

1. The name

Orally transmitted for a long time, Iranian sagas and historical traditions were set down in writing in the sixth and seventh centuries in two ways: a) an official history, the X*adäy-namag, which chronicled the story of EranSahr, as the later Sasanians envisaged it, from the creation of the world, the appearance of man and the first king, to the time of its composition®; b) independent treatises relating heroic or romantic deeds of famed Iranians’. At least three versions of the X“adäy-nämag existed (see below), but there was only one core. Since the Iranians, as many other nations, regarded history as the science of preserving the memory and words of ancient leaders (cf. the testimonies of Agathias and of Bahram Gor, below), their accounts of the past

came to be collected in a series of documents called “Royal Records”, or “Kings Words” (Suxanhä-yi Sähän)? or “Kings” Records” (Näma-yi Xusravän)'°. Now, the term x"atäy < x"adäy (lord)!! was often used as an epithet of Iranian kings!?. “Written account”, hence “history”, was namag. The official history of the past, therefore, came to acquire the standard designation of X"“adäy-namag'3. After the fall of the Sasanians, the Arabicized Iranians reserved the word X“aray for “the

ON THE X"ADAY-NAMAG

209

Lord”, Arabic Allah'* (except in some compound words!5 or titles of non-Islamic kings!‘). Even the word X"adäh-kusän ‘‘regicide”, the epithet given to Yazdigard III’s murderer, Mähöy-i Suri, and to his descendants!”, was gradually altered to suit Muslim taste!®. The term X"adäy-nämag “Book of Kings/History of Lords” was translated into Arabic as Siyar al-Mulük'°, but the Iranians soon replaced it with a more practical designation: Sähnäma?°. (In our discussion, the latter term refers to Firdausi’s work).

2. Source materials

The compilers of the X"adäy-namag used, beside old sagas, archival texts, narratives of contemporary events, and anachronistic recastings of recent events. a. Archival texts. Already Sapir I and Kardér attest in their inscriptions to the existence of royal and religious archival records?!. The secretaries (dabiran) formed a privileged class in Sasanian Iran??, and princely courtes as well as great fire temples possessed archives?>. Archival materials consisted of royal decrees of all kinds; petitions; records of payment and other Treasury items; chronicles of events; treaty documents; “‘testaments”’ and epistles left, allegedly or in reality, by learned and successful statesmen or religious leaders; scientific and pseudo-scientific works; literary specimens; and official handbooks on the arts of rulership, archery, polo, falconry, etc.?*. To these may be added “secret’”’ documents such as historical “‘predictions’?*. A vivid description of record-keeping procedures has been given by Ibn alMugaffa‘, the translator of official Sasanian books on history and bureaucracy?°. For various categories of records, seals with different engravings were used?’. Thus, official decrees and treaties were stamped with a seal bearing the figure of a boar, one of the symbols of Voro@rayna/Bahram, god of victory and patron of Iranian warriors?®. Menander Protector ends his account of the peace-negotiation between Petrus Patricius on behalf of Justinian, and Isedegusnaph (Izad-Gusnasp) on behalf of Anöseravän as follows ?°: Two copies of these documents were made and carefully compared to ensure identity of wording and content; and other copies were fastened with wax seals and stamped with the signets of the envoys as well as of twelve interpreters, six for each High Contracting Party, after which Isedegusnaph gave Petrus the original copy

210

A. SHAHPUR SHAHBAZI

written in Persian and another in the same language but written in Greek letters, receiving in return the original copy written in Greek as well as another in the same language but written in Persian characters, these second copies being consulted and serving as aide memoires.

Noting that a complete list of Persian kings was lacking in Western accounts?°, Agathias made it his “business to collect accurate information on the subject from official Persian sources (Tlepoıyot BipAot)??. Later he gave a summary of these sources as regards the history of the Sasanian period*? Sergius the interpreter managed in fact during a stay in Persia to prevail upon the keepers of the royal archives to grant him access to the relevant literature .... Fortunately, when he stated that his sole purpose was to preserve even among our nation the memory of what they, the Persians, knew and cherished, they immediately obliged, thinking that it would enhance the prestige of their kings if the Romans too were to learn what kind of men they were together with their numbers and the order and manner in which the succession has been maintained. What Sergius did then was to take the names and dates and principal events and put them into good Greek...[Then he] brought me all his material, urging me to fulfill the purpose for which it had been entrusted to him. And that is exactly what I have done. Consequently, even if there are some discrepancies between my account of the reign of Kawad and that given by Procopius, we must follow the authority of the Persian documents and credit their contents with greater veracity. b. Narrations of contemporary events. Another source available to the compilers of the national history was the relation of the actual events by professional and talented scribes, who sometimes witnessed, if they did not actually take part in, the events*3. Thus, we are told3*: When Xusrau Parvéz concluded his wars with Bahram-i Cöbin and consolidated his rule over the empire, he ordered his secretary to write down an account of those wars and related events in full, from the beginning to the end. The secretary complied, and when they read off the narrative to Xusrau, its preface did not please him. Thereupon a young secretary wrote an eloquent and rhetorical prologue to the work and presented it to the king. Xusrau

ON THE X*ADAY-NAMAG

211

Parvez was delighted with it and ordered the promotion of the young scribe to a higher grade. The narrator could be a secretary, a minstrel, or anyone who knew son of Anôëëéravan, having been blinded

the events. Thus, Hormazd,

and imprisoned, asked for?5: Some noble cavalier scarred with long fight To talk to me of warfare and the chase, And some old sage to hold discourse of kings, Bringing to me a written book (navista yak-i daftar) to abate My pain and misery. The chronicling of recent events was a delicate matter?°; some chapters, therefore, had to be revised once a major hero had died 37. c. The “‘Ctesian method’. Iranian compilers of a national history sometimes used what we may term the “Ctesian method” of anachronism whereby old history was enriched and its lacunae filled in by the projection of recent events or their reflections into remoter time?®. Thus,

Alexander

was

represented

as

an

East

Roman

Caesar,

with

armies modelled after Byzantine forces, and a banner with a cross as its device *?! Or Frédon was said to have treasured the Avesta and Zand in Kangdiz, and Kai Xusrau was made to recite from the Avesta of Zoroaster*°! Yet, these accounts are useful for the Sasanian period because many aspects of cultural and political history of this epoch are clothed in sagas of older heroes#!. The “Ctesian method” allowed compilers to fill many chapters of ancient history with memories of recent events. Just as Ctesias used the position of Cyrus the Younger to invent a great satrapy for Bardiya*?, so did Iranians describe Kai Xusrau’s treasures by duplicating those of Xusrau Parvez*?; and used the victory of Sofray (Soxra) the Karen over the Hephtalites to fabricate, as Nöldeke noticed**, Naudar’s tragic

end in a region southeast of the Caspian Sea, and Karen’s spectacular victory over the “Turks” *°. Another noteworthy instance of the “Ctesian method” is the vivid description of the Sähnäma—ultimately derived from the X"adaynamag—of the great campaign of Kai Xusrau against Afrasiyab. Here is a summary of the Iranians’ battle array*° prior to the decisive battle which was joined in a place not far from Farab, somewhere between the Oxus and the border of Dahistan*’ (see Figure 1).

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ON THE X*ADAY-NAMAG

213

I. Centre: Kai Xusrau with cavalry swordsmen. II. Frontal lines: a. Bactrian archers on foot; b. Elephants carrying little towers in which archers were positioned; Zanga-i Sävurän with Ctesiphonian warriors guarding them; c. Infantry equipped with long lances and shields; d. Gélani archers with shields; e.

Cavalry archers. III. Rear lines: a. Gurgén-i Meläd [i.e., the Mihran] with men of Rey; b, c. Bezan and Raham [of the Karen family]; d. Zaraspians; e. PurSaspians. IV. Right flank, commanded by Tös, who carried the Imperial banner (Käviyän-i Darafs): a. Manosan, king of Khuzistan; b.

Goran Sah; c. Ara’, king of Kirman; d. Sayya‘ of Yemen; e. Erij, king of Kabul; f. Mandéihr, son of Ara’; g. Perôz, king of Tarcagan. V. Left flank under Fareburz: a. Princes of the royal family with their men;

Davar;

b. Sammax, king of Asoristan; c. Géva, king of d. Tuxär, king of Dahistan; e. Zuhair, leader of the

Arabs; f. Nastöh, with the Central Mesopotamians. VI. Right wing, under Rustam: a. The Zäbuli forces; b. The Caucasian mercenaries under Gév the Karen; c. Ava; d. Samangan;

Barta; f. Kohyar; g. Zararah; h. Karen and Gustahm. Left wing under Gödarz the Karen: a. Hajer; b. Sedös; c. Men of

VII.

VIII.

e.

Barda‘; d. Men of Ardabil. Outer rear: a. Roman mercenaries*#; b. Moorish mercenaries*®.

IX. Baggage train guarded by Andeman, son of Tos. Many of these names are unfamiliar in Firdausi’s narrative of Kai Xusrau’s reign, and it is obvious that such a detailed and careful description stemmed from a written record which, necessarily, related the arrangement of a Sasanian army. The mention of the Yemenite, Roman, Moorish and Caucasian units proves that this army served Xusrau

Anößeravän.

It may

be safely concluded,

therefore,

that we

have here a document describing the battle order of Xusrau Anoseravan prior to his decisive combat with the Hephtalites, whom Persian sources often refer to by the general term “Turks”.

3. Date of composition It is said that whenever Bahram V (Gor) held a feast, “he asked for the Book of Kings (Näma-yi Xusravan)” to be read in his presence”, and that in audience, “many stories were narrated to him, mentioning

214

A. SHAHPUR SHAHBAZI

Jamsed

and Fredön”5°.

nobles,

on

historical

Bahram

events°!:

himself reflects, in a speech to his “Down

from

HoSang

...

up to Kai

Kawad ...,” “Their reputation is their monument.” Although the reference to Kai Kawäö is probably an anachronistic indication (pointing to Kawaéd, father of Anöseravän, see below), the statement nevertheless implies that from the time of Bahrän Gör the national history was in the process of compilation into written records. Indeed, from the fourth century, old names

such as Zarer, Kawäö,

Jamasp,

Kaus

and

Xusrau, began to be used by members of the Sasanian family *?. This and the fact that the ancient royal title Kavi (KD or KD/) appears on coins in addition to the usual Sasanian honorifics (e.g. KDI YZDKRTI MLKAN MLKA) = Kai Yazdigard Sähänsäh)‘?, both point to the currency or revival of the old stories. By the time of Xusrau Anöseravän the history of ancient Iran was definitely compiled in a coherent form and kept in the treasury as a national document°*. It was this Book of Kings which Hormazd desired to be read to him°®.

Under

Xusrau

Parvez,

much

new

material

was

added to the X"adäy-naämag, and this then became the main source of all early Islamic histories on ancient Iran, which—as Nöldeke noted— precisely for this reason are in agreement with one another till the death of Xusrau Parvez but vary considerably on the history of his successors?9 A hitherto unnoticed piece of evidence gives the exact date of that revision of the X"adäy-nämag which was ordered by Xusrau Parvez. This is contained in the description of the world which the compilers of the Sahndma of ‘Abi Mansür ‘Abd al-Razzaq drew from much older sources and included in their prologue to that work °’. There one has

the remarkable statements that “Eränsahr stretches from the Amüya (Oxus) to the River of Egypt (i.e., the Nile) (Eränsahr az Amiiya ast ta Rüd-i Misr)’, and that Rum

(i.e., the Byzantine

Empire)

and

Barber

land (i.e., North Africa) were neighbors of Eränsahr®. Now, the only time that the Sasanian EranSahr was so expanded ‘westwards as to border on the Nile and next to the Berber Land was during the years A.D. 615-22, when Xusrau Parvéz’ generals conquered Egypt*®. We are, therefore, justified in concluding that the revision of the X"adäynamag ordered by Xusrau Parvéz was made in c. 620°°. A final chapter was added to the X"adäy-nämag just after the Arab conquest and the death of Yazdigard III®!. It contained? lamentations over the loss of dignity, religion and empire, and some sort of prediction that a savior would rise and destroy the foreigners and restore Iranian monarchy®?. This often quoted and usually misunderstood ’

ON THE X*ADAY-NAMAG

chapter depicts mented proper

may have Christian the death rites and

215

been written by some Christian scholars. Firstly, it priests as most nationalistic and likeable; they laof Yazdigard with bitterness but “buried” him with had no doubt that he would go to Paradise.

Secondly, the ‘Letter of Rustam-i Farruxzäd to his brother”, which is a

part of the epilogue®®, grieves over the loss of the Sasanian empire but predicts a resurrection of Iran’s might “in four hundred years time” °°. From other sources we know that in the early Islamic period the predictions gained currency that the Arab supremacy would start declining about 360 years after the birth of Muhammad7, and that the appearance of the Yajuj and Majij and the rise of an Islamic Messiah (Mahdi) as well as the Return of Jesus from Heaven should all occur in c. 400 of the Islamic Era°®. As it can be seen, the appointed time is the arrival of the year 1000 of the Christian Era, which forecasters connected with the appearance of many supernatural and dreadful happenings. The figure 400 in the “Letter of Rustam”, therefore, seems to have come from a Christian source, possibly from Marv, and adapted to Zoroastrian “hazära” (millennary) scheme. Contrary to the general assumption, the prediction has nothing to do with the accession of Sultan Mahmud and it did not represent Ferdowsi’s own concept. 4. Three versions of the X”aday-namag The Sasanian X"adäy-nämag had several versions which differed in some details from one another‘? and the variations in the Arabic siyar al-muluks were so substantial that of twenty-one recensions, no two agreed completely’°. The accounts on Gayômar® as given in several works based on the Arabic translations of the X“adäy-nämag also point to two versions (each with variations) of the official Sasanian chronicle7!, one regarded Gayômar® as the first man as well as the first king, the other described him only as the first man and gave the position of first king to Hôëang. Similarly, the variations in the accounts given on Tahmori0, Jam8éd, and KraSäsp and so on, stemmed from the differences between the two “royal” and “priestly” versions of the X*adäynamag. Thus, as Tagizäda pointed out long ago’?, Hamza remarks that Ibn al-Mugaffa‘ and Muhammad b. Jahm, the two earliest redactors of the X"adäy-nämag, had failed to narrate a chapter of it concerning the creation of the world and of Gayomar®. Then Hamza summarizes the omitted chapter but starts with the statement, “Thus I read in a book

wherein it was quoted from the scripture of the Persians called Abista

216

A. SHAHPUR SHAHBAZI

[i.e., Avesta] that ...73. It may be recalled that the written Avesta, which was set down in its final form under Xusrau AnöSeravän and reedited by the order of Xusrau Parvez, was an encyclopedia of the sciences—including history—which were available to Sasanian scholarpriests’*. Indeed, certain parts (nask) of the Avesta gave detailed accounts of some phases of ancient Iranian history, and one part, CiOradata > Cihrdaé nask, was entirely devoted to Iranian history, and,

as its summary in the Dénkard (VIII. 13)75 shows, it contained particullars

about

the race

of mankind;

the formation

of the first man,

Gayömard, the first couple, MaSiya and MasSiyäna, and the distribution of their progeny into the six regions (kisvar) which are around Xvanira0. The Cihrdaö went on to give a world history °—The evolution of law, custom and cultivation; the establishment of kingship by HOSang the Pesdaÿ; the reigns of his successors, Taxmorup (Tahmori@) and Yim; the usurpation

of Dahak,

a descendant

of Taz, brother of

HoSang and father of the Tazikan (Arabs); his overthrow by Fredon, the latter’s conquest of Mazandaran, and his division of the Seven Climes between his sons—Salm, Taz (Tür) and Airik (Erij); the marriage of these three princes with the daughters of Patsrobo, King of the Arabs; their off-springs; the reign of Mandtihr, the scion of Erij, over Iran;

and the wars of Fräsiyav (> Afrasiyab) of Türän against Uzuva > Zi of Iran; the re-establishment of the Iranian monarchy under Kai Kawäß; the reign of his grandson7’, Kai Us, and of Kai Xusrau, son of Siyavaxs; the story of the descendants of Salm, Tür and Erij down to the reigns of Kai Luhrasp and Kai Vistasp; the “coming of ZartuSt to conference with Ahuramazda” [i.e., his ““appearance’’]; and the reigns of later kings, particularly the Sasanians. It also included”® an account of the family of Atürpäë son of Marspent up to Manößihr. This last reference, and the present tense used for the reign of the Sasanians”° indicate that the Cihrdaö’s account was mainly compiled in the time of Säpür II, perhaps by Atürpaô himself. It agrees substantially with the narrative of the “royal” X“aday-namag®°, but naturally laid more emphasis on religious aspects of the history of Iran. Thus, the twentieth section of Sudgar nask related®! that when Frédon smote Dahak, the giants of Mazandaran invaded Xvanira@ and caused great harm and destruction. People complained to Fredön: “Why did you smite Dahak, who was a good ruler as to prerogative, so that danger was kept away by him and his agent protected this region from the Mazandaranians?®* This story, particularly the benevolent aspects of Dahak’s rule, did not appeal to the compilers of the “royal” version of the X*adäy-nämag. Similarly, the twenty-first section of Suögar nask

ON THE XYADAY-NAMAG

2A]

represented the rule of Kaus more sympathetically than did early Islamic chronicles which reflect the “royal” version of the X“addynamag*>. It related that Kaus reigned with triumph, over the earth of seven regions; and restrained “the many idolaters of Mazandaran who are the ruin of the world ...”’84. Yet a third version of the X"adäy-nämag emphasizing achievements of the great families of Erangahr, and to which the designation “heroic” version may be given, is traceable in our sources. Firstly, the “priestly” version gave no prominence to Rustam, nor did it describe the circumstances of his death. The “royal” version did name him among the paladins of Eränsahr, but played down his role as the supreme hero of the Kayanid period, and reported his death at the hand of Bahman-Ardasér, the great champion of the Sasanian tradition’. Against this background, we find that certain recensions of the Iranian history which go back to Sasanian official chronicles depict Rustam

as the bravest of the brave, the invincible savior of Iran and

the main support of the Kyanian dynasty ®°, adding that he died before Bahman’s accession. Some of these materials may have been collected from various sagas independent of the X*aday-namag, but their inclusion in serious histories proves that they agreed substantially with certain editions of the X"adäy-nämag which were neither “royal” nor “priestly”. Secondly, several families of the Sasanian period, namely, the Kären, the Süren, and the Mihrän, are depicted anachronistically in some recensions of the Iranian tradition as rivals of the royal house of Kayan. Just as the Sasanians claimed sovereignty by right of descent from Kai Vistasp—the royal patron of Zoroaster—so did these families allege that they had been “established” in their fiefs and in their elevated positions by the same Kai Vistäsp®”. Besides, they boasted descent from the Arsacid kingly house, and were thus the ParOava (Parthians) > Pahlavans “heroes” of Erän$ahr®®. Such a prominence was not given to these families in the Avesta and its derivations. Neither did the “royal” version of the X"adäy-nämag bestow upon them so elevated a position, but emphasized, instead, their roles as celebrated bandas (subjects) of the Great King. A “heroic” version of the X"adäy-nämag could have been responsible for the extraordinary importance accorded the Pahlaväns in the national epic and history and for the occasional use (albeit in disguise) of the Arsacid Era (see below); and the outstanding qualities attributed to the House of Karen suggests that it was some members of this family who had compiled a version of the national history most partial towards them.

218

A. SHAHPUR SHAHBAZI

Thirdly, the “royal” and ‘“priestly” versions of the X"“adäy-nämag represent

Kai Vistäsp as a Constantine

man-Ardagér as the much prosperity for the Persian national heartless sovereigns subjects and caused

of Zoroastrianism,

and

Bah-

great patron of the Good Faith and the author of Erän$ahr®°. These very kings, however, appear in epic®° as treacherous, short-sighted, malignant and who disregarded their pledges, ill-rewarded their great harm to the people. This cannot be merely

the influence of the sagas upon historical records; rather, the Bahman-

Ardagér of the X"adäy-nämag has many features in common with the Sasanian Ardaëer, whose ruthless effort to root out pro-Arsacid opposition among the provincial lords seems to be transferred to his Kayanid namesake. Similarly, the endeavour of Ardaser-ı Papakan to make Zoroastrianism the state religion must have resulted in the destruction of many cult temples?!, and the memory of such acts would have been kept but reshaped into malicious efforts by the royal patron of Zoroaster Kai ViStäsp, to destroy Rustam and his house, who had refused the new faith. Again, the royal tradition (represented by Firdausr)°? and the priestly one (preserved in the Rivayati-i Darab Hurmizdyär)°* call Ardasér II of the Sasanian dynasty the Benedict (Nikükär), but the Pahlavanic version (as rendered in Tabari°*, @a‘alibi°> and the Farsnama)°° accuses him of excessive cruelty and misrule. Unless we assume the existence of a version of the X“adäy-nämag with strong “Pahlavanic” sympathies, the traduction of Kai Vistasp, Bahman-ArdaSer, and Ardasér II become inexplicable. Some minor discrepancies were obviously orthographical, as Nöldeke rightly pointed out°7. 5. Origins of the Chronological Scheme in the X*adäy-nämag One great defect of the X"adäy-nämag as a true history of ancient Iran was its lack of precision in chronology. The Seleucids and Parthians had used dynastic eras, but the Sasanians reverted to the old tradition of counting by regnal years of each king?®. The chronological scheme of the X"“adäy-nämag followed this practice, but used the traditional millenary (hazära) system as its corner stone°°. There were, however, two dates which Sasanian chroniclers had learned from their predecessors. One was the appearance (i.e., the birth) of Zoroaster 258 years before “Alexander”, (this had been obtained by reinterpreting the interval between the Babylonian accession of Cyrus the Great in 539 B.C. and the epochal year of the Seleucid Era in 311 as the Period “From Zoroaster [’s Call] till ‘Alexander’ ”)1°0, The second was the fact ’

ON THE XYADÄY-NÄMAG

219

that Ardaser ascended the throne 538 years after “Alexander”!%1.

In

both cases, the term “Alexander” meant “the Era of Alexander”, which

was another name for the Seleucid Era !°2. a. The Seleucid Era Identified as the ‘Era of Zoroaster’. A major stage in the development of the traditional chronology was the reduction, allegedly by Ardaser-i Papakan, of the 474 years of the Arsacid rule to 266 (or 260) years. The fullest account of this measure is given by Mas‘udi as follows 103: There is a great difference of opinion between the Iranians and other nations concerning the chronology of Alexander, and many people have not taken notice of this point which is one of the state and religious secrets of the Iranians, and from my personal investigations in the provinces of Färs and Kirmän and other regions of Iran, it became apparent that apart from the möbaös and herbaös and scholars, very few are acquainted with it; nor is there any mention of it in books dealing with Iranian history and other works on general history and chronology. And that state and religious secret is the following. Zoroaster, the son of PoriSasp and grandson of Spitamän, states in the Avesta, which according to the Iranians is the holy scripture revealed to Zoroaster from the heaven, that when 300 years passed (from his time), a disaster would befall the empire but their religion would survive; however, when a millennium is passed, both the empire and the faith would perish. Now, Zoroaster appeared in the time of Kai Vistasp, the son of Kai Luhräsp, and between him and Alexander was a period of nearly (nahwa) 300 years, and Ardaser-i Papakan obtained the kingship just over 510 years after Alexander and succeeded in subjugating all countries. And when he observed that no more than 200 years remained of the whole millennium, he resolved upon prolonging the length of the rulership (in his family) by another two centuries, for it was feared that when the remaining 200-year period ended, people firmly believing the words of their prophet— who had predicted the downfall of both the state and the religion— would not defend their country with determination and would

refuse

to

serve

their

king.

Ardaser,

therefore,

reduced

almost by half the 500-year interval between himself and Alexander, counting of the petty kings only some rulers with a total reign of 260 years and ignoring the rest'°*. He then spread the word throughout the realm to the effect that his own appearance and his overcoming of the petty kings and his triumph over Ardavan, who was superior to all of them and had more armed forces than the

220

A. SHAHPUR SHAHBAZI

rest, had occurred 260 years after Alexander. And so the chronology was officially fixed in this way, and it was published; and the variation which exists between the Iranians and other nations regarding the date of Alexander owes its origin to this act, and the disorder in the chronology of the Petty Kings is likewise due to the same measure!°°. As H. Lewy!°°, S.H. Taqizäda!°7 and W.B. Henning!°® have explained, the “secret” involved the identification of the Seleucid Era with the epochal year of the millennium of Zoroaster, whereby ArdaSer’s “Ctesiphon accession !°°” in A.D. 226/7 (= 538 Seleucid Era) was placed 538 years after Zoroaster, or (538-258 =) 280 years after “Alexander”, with the result that the Parthian period was curtailed to (280—14 =) 266 years. The purpose of this equation and its author, however, remain problematic. This development was not the consequence of “an innocent mistake!10” but a deliberate attempt with a specific aim, for the Parthians and the Manichaeans had also taken similar measures (see below). Again, the view that it was Ardaëer who falsified the chronology is open to question. Having just created a large, mighty and well-organized empire, ArdaSer had no reason to fear that it would soon collapse. Besides, the Arsacids and Seleucus Eras were current in his time, and everyone knew that he had vanquished Ardavan in the year 472 of the “Royal reckoning” (as the Arsacid Era was known) and 535 of the “Former reckoning” (as the Seleucid Era was then called). Had Ardaser identified the Seleucid'Era with the beginning of the millennium of the prophet in order to create an “Era of Zoroaster’,

his own

son, Säpür, would

have used the new

era when

recording the dates of the accessions of his grandfather, father and himself, instead of indicating the regnal years by counting from the royal fires kindled at each king’s coronation!!!. Nor would Mani have referred to the Seleucid Era under the name of the “Era of Babylonian astronomers” when dating Ardaëër’s regnal years in the Sabühragan,

which he wrote for Säpür in Persian 112.

:

Ardaser did effect a chronological “reform”, but this was the unreasonable revival of the Achaemenid system of dating by regnal years, a measure which put the most useful chronological devices of his time, the Seleucid and Arsacid Eras, out of official use; and it soon became

difficult to keep an accurate account of the past chronology. Even the association of the “Former reckoning” (Seleucid Era) with Alexander became restricted to Syriac literature (from whence it later re-appeared in Iranian sources), so that some centuries after Ardaëer one referred to

ON THE XYADAY-NAMAG

pp

the Seleucid Era merely as “‘the Era”, in the same way as the Christian Era is used in our time!!3. Subsequently, the Manichaeans, who took pains in translating every alien concept to one familiar to themselves, “translated” the Seleucid Era into the epochal year of the twelfth and the last millennium of their world age!!*. By the accession of Yazdigard I (A.D. 339 = 710 Seleucid Era), only one generation had remained from the millennium of Zoroaster (399 + 311 + 258 = 968), and the ever present fear of the calamities associated with the millennary system of the world’s age must have made the postponement of history an urgent necessity. Later tradition assigns a calendrical “reform” to this Yazdigard !!°. Doubts have been expressed as to the validity of this tradition!!°. However,

Yazdigard’s earnest effort to settle problematic

disorders of his Christian organized church suggests

subjects and to give them an “Iranian” that he was deeply interested in matters

which related the church to the throne!!7. Furthermore, dastur Yazdi-

gard, the official whom King Yazdigard commissioned to carry out the “reform”, is actually well-known as a grand minister of King Yazdigard!!® It is highly probable, therefore, that Yazdigard’s “reform” really involved the identification of the epochal year of Zoroaster’s millennium with the Seleucid Era which in his environment had lost its connexion

with Alexander

and was known

as “the Era”, the “Era of

Babylonian astronomers’, and the “Former reckoning’ !1°. This would have placed the accession of Yazdigard 710 years after Zoroaster, and since of these 710 years, 172 had been taken (in the official chronology cf. Agathias IV, 24-6) by earlier Sasanians, 258 by the interval between Zoroaster and Alexander and 14 by the latter, only 266 years (= Agathias II, 267: “some 270 years”) remained to be assigned to the Parthians!?°. The authoritativeness of this “reform” was claimed by attributing it to Ardaser, the founder of the Sasanian dynasty. The scheme was widely accepted. Only the astronomers, who had access to older data, refused to follow it, and continued

to place the birth of

Zoroaster 258 years before the Seleucid Era or 240 years before Alexander’s Persian accession !?!. b. The Arsacid Era identified as the “Era of Zoroaster’’. The Parthians had used their ‘“‘Royal Era” (began 248/7 B.C.), either alone in purely Iranian contexts, or side by side with the “Former reckoning” (= the Seleucid Era) in general cases!??. Ardavan, whom Ardaseér vanquished, erected a stele for his satrap at Susa in “the year 462 [= A.D. 216/45] month of Spandärmat, day of Mihr”!**. One cannot think that this era completely vanished with the rise of the Sasanians,

229

A. SHAHPUR SHAHBAZI

for the Arsacids continued to rule over Armenia, and great Parthian families retained their exalted positions in Iran itself!?*. It was recently shown that!?5 despite the Sasanian revival.of the dating by regnal years of individual kings, the Parthians rescued the era which originally marked their rise to power!*°, by giving it a religious significance. Their claim that they had been established in their outstanding social rank by Kavi Vistäsp!?7, meant that the date of the founding of their empire (marked by the “Royal Reckoning”) could smoothly be transferred to the establishment of the great Parthian families by the royal patron of Zoroaster. Thus, the Arsacid Era came to indicate an “Era of Zoroaster” which supposedly began with his millennium. The conclusive evidence for this comes from the ‘‘200 and odd years” (= 203178) which the original reductor of the Greater Bundahisn'*° and one of Firdausi’s sources!?° allowed for the Parthian period, because 203 years plus 14 years of Alexander and the 258 years separating the latter from Zoroaster give a total of 475 years, and, in fact, the “Ctesiphon accession” of Ardaser postdated the Arsacid Era by (248 B.C. + 227 =) 475 years. We can now go one step further. The Sasanians accepted this Parthian version with a slight modification and cleverly used it to further their own cause: they shifted the beginning of Zoroaster’s millennium from his birth to his Call (the 30-year gap thus created was duly filled with the reign of a fictitious queen, Humäy, represented as the daughter of Bahman-Ardaser) in order to place the Battle of Hurmazdgan

(28 April 224), which decided the fate of the Arsacids, in

the 5S0lst year (= 471 + 30) of the Arsacid Era which was now the “Era of Zoroaster’. No religious propaganda would have better served the Sasanians than the conviction that their establishment had come in the middle of the millennium of Zoroaster. In one respect, this made Ardasér a Zoroastrian Messiah, opening the second half of a millennium which had commenced with the prophet himself. The proof for this tradition comes from two pieces of evidence. One is a prediction attributed to Ardasér that the kingship would remain in his line “for five hundred years’’!?, till the end of the millennium !32. The second informs us that when Bahram-i Cöbin, himself of the Arsacid descent,

assumed kingship and attempted to revive the Parthian dynasty !33, he proclaimed that since the murder of King Ardavan by the commoner Ardaëer “five hundred years have elapsed”’ 134, and the blessed moment of the overthrow of the Sasanians “has arrived” 135, Further, upon his

accession, Bahram prayed that the kingship remain in his house ‘‘from ’

ON THE XYADAY-NAMAG

223

now till one thousand years”’136, Clearly, he regarded himself as the expected Saviour with whom the eleventh Zoroastrian millennium was hoped to begin. His immense popularity suggests that his claims were not taken lightly !3”. c. The final revisions in A.D. 555. Under Xusrau AnöSeravän, some Greek and Syriac literature became available to Persian scholars through Pahlavi translations, and the Seleucid Era came once more to serve as the basis fo chronological computations, and its Syriac name, the “Era of Alexander”, or simply “Alexander”, was likewise revived. A natural consequence of this readoption was the revelation of the “state and religious secret” concerning the date of Alexander: his “Era” had commenced 19 (or 18) years after his Persian accession (1.e., 330-312/11 B.C.), and what many Iranians had come to believe as the “Era of Zoroaster” had in reality been the alien era which was now once more called after the hated conqueror! The embarrassment and debates caused by this discovery have left clear traces in our sources. In the 25th regnal year of Xusrau Anöseravän (A.D. 555), an assembly of court astronomers convened to correct the source of all chronological computations: the Royal Astronomical Canon (Zij-i Sahriyaran)}38, and there is reason to believe that at this convention the date of Zoroaster also was debated 13°. Three solutions were proposed. Some deducted 18 years [from Alexander to the Seleucid Era], and placed Zoroaster 240 years before the Conqueror!*° and Anöseravän’s 25th year in (240 + 14 + 266 + 331 [since Ardaser’s victory in 224]=) 851st year of the millennium !*!. A second group took the term “till Alexander” to mean till the Conqueror, and dated Zoroaster’s birth [and Kai ViStasp’s accession] to (258+ 19 =) 277 years before the Seleucid Era!*?. A third group, however, continued to interpret “‘till Alexander” as “till the Seleucid Era”, and counting 228 years from Zoroaster’s Call or 258 years since his birth, they placed AnoSéeravan’s 25th year at (258 + 14+ 266 + 328 [since Ardasér’s Ctesiphon accession in 227]=) 866th year of the millennium #3. This view came to prevail, but because of the incorporation of Humay’s 30 years, it had to shift the epochal year of Zoroaster’s millennium from his birth to his Call*4*. d. The apolcalyptic version. The Arab conquest was perceived as the calamity foretold by Zoroaster at the end of his millennium. This forced the theologians to “correct” the traditional chronology by placing the faH of the Persian empire 1,000 years after Zoroaster !*°. Of this millennium, 426 years belonged to the Sasanians,

14 to Alexander

224

A. SHAHPUR SHAHBAZI

and 266 years to the Arsacids; hence, the interval between Zoroaster and Alexander had to be increased to (1,000—426+ 266+ 14 =) 294 years, that is, to “nearly” (as Mas‘udi specifies) 300 years. Then, in order to make the sum into a round and fabulous figure, 6 years were subtracted from the Parthian period, which was thus “ofhicially fixed” (as Mas‘üdi emphasized) at 260 years, and the interval between Alexander and Zoroaster increased to (294 + 6 =) 300 years. Amazingly, this concocted chronology has at times been favoured!*° even though it could not apportion the sum of 300 years to the kings whom it accepted as historic, and had to reduce the 538-year interval between ‘‘Alexander” and ArdeSér to 510 years! Not so the version based on the figure 258464:

NOTES ! “Tranian National History”, in E. Yarshater, ed., The Cambridge History of Iran WI/

1 (1983), 359-480. 2 Yarshater, op. cit.., 342. 3 E.G., J. Mohl’s Introduction to his ed. and tr. of the Sähnäma: Le livre des Rois, Paris 1838; Th. Nöldeke, Geschichte der Perser und Araber zur Zeit der Sassaniden. Aus der arabischen Chronik des Tabari, Leiden (1879), XIV ff.; idem, “Das iranische National-

epos’’, Grundriss der iranischen Philologie II Strassburg (1896-1904), 130-211 (rev. ed., Das iranische Nationalepos, Leipzig 1920); Baron Victor von Rosen, “K voprosu ob arabskich perevodach Chudai Name”, in Vostocnye Zametki, St. Petersburg (1895), 153-91 (reviewed by J. Kirste, “Uber das Khodäi-näme”,

in WZKM,

X, 1896, 322-26);

H. Zotenberg,

Histoire des rois de Perse [Oa’älıbi’s], Paris (1900), xiliff.; S.H. Taqizada, “Firdausi”, Kava (Berlin), N.S. I-II (1920-21

see also n. 72); M.M.

Qazvini, Bist Magäla, II, ed ‘A.

Iqbal, Tehran (1313/1934), 1 ff., 20 ff.; A. Christensen, L’/ran sous les Sassanides, 2nd rev. ed., Copenhagen (1944), 59 ff.; W. Barthold, “Zur Geschichte des persischen Epos”, ZDMG,

ICVII (1944), 121-27; O. Klima, “Wie sah die persische Geschichtsschreibung in

der vorislamischen Periode aus?” Archiv Orientälni XXXVI (1968), 213-32; M. Boyce, “Middle Persian Literature”, in HO, Abt I, Bd. IV, Abschn. 2. Lief. 1, Leiden (1968), 5760; M.N. Osmanov, ““Xudäynämahä va Sähnämahä-ye ma’äxiö-i Firdausi, in Jasn-nämaye Muhammad Parvin Gunäbädi, Tehran (1975), 286-332.

* Based on chapter seven of my A History of Iranian Historiography, compiled in Göttingen (1980-83); I would like to express my sincere gratitude to Professor Dr. W.

Hinz for valuable help, and to the authorities of the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation for their generous support of the research. > “What

thou shalt do, that may

Ahuramazdä

make

successful

for thee’:

Darius,

Behistun [Old Pers.] IV 75-6. © Nöldeke-Tabari, xivff.; Nationalepos, 12 ff. For a detailed account of the contents see Yarshater, op. cit., 370 ff., 412 ff. ” For some examples see A. Christensen, Les gestes des rois dans les traditions de l'Iran antique, Paris (1936), 43 ff. ® So already Agathias, Histories [tr. J.D. Frendo, Berlin (1975)], IV, 30.2: &dnopvnpovebpata and (II 27:8) Bacıkıkai dipdepaı [cf. Firdausrs Daftar-i Xusravan which exactly renders the latter Greek term: Nöldeke, Nationalepos, 13.

Sahnama,

Moscow

ed., VII,

1968.

339

2]mseezalso

ON THE X*“ADAY-NAMAG

DS

° Sahnama, VI, 331:446. 0 HE, SPS", 11 See in detail on this title Ch. Bartholomae, “Zur Kenntniss Mundarten”, Sb. d. Heidelb. Ak. d. Wiss., (1920), 1-53.

der mitteliranischen

12 So Mujmal al-Tawärix wa'l-Qisas, ed. M.T. Bahar, Tehran (1318/1939), Tarjama-yi Tafsir-i Tabari, ed., H. Yayma’i, Tehran, II (1339/1960), 348. 12 Nöldeke-Tabari, xiv; Nationalepos,

85; cf.

13.

14 See E.G. Browne, A Literary History of Persia, 1, Cambridge (1902), 333 f, for the case of Afsin who was accused of having assumed “divine title”. 15 Such as naäv-x"adäy > näx”ada “admiral”; dihx”ada village-master”; katx"ada “clan lord” and figuratively: “village lord” and “bride-groom”, etc. 1° E.G. Saman-X™adah “Lord of Saman”; Buxärä-X”adäh “king of Buxara”; Güzgänan-X”adah “King of Güzgänän”, etc. Firdausi used x”adäy in the sense of “king” mostly

in connection

with

Kabul

(Käbul-X*adäy,

Sahnama,

1, 162:598;

205:1368;

227:1757), but he has once Erän-X"adäy “King of Erän$ahr” used of Erij (ibid., I, 78:302). 17 Hamza

Isfahani,

Tarix Sint Mulük

al-Ard wa’l-Anbiya’, ed. J.M.E.

Gottwald,

Leipzig (1844), 63. Cf. Tabari, III, 343: the city of Marv itself, where Yazdigard III was murdered, recieved the epithet X*adäh.dusman “King's enemy”. 18 Thus, Firdausi, Sähnäma, (X“adah.kus) to XYadavand.kus.

IX, 377:819,

379:835, changed the epithet of Mahoye

19 Hamza, op. cit., 8, 18.

20 Mujmal, loc. cit. 21 M. Rostovzeff, “Res Gestae divi Saporis and Dura”, Berytus VIII (1943), 17 ff.; A. Sh. Shahbazi, “Iranian Notes 7-13”, AMI 19 (1986), [= Festgrüsse W. Hinz], 165f.; cf. Yarshater, op. cit., 392-93.

22 For “‘dabiran’’ of the Sasanian period see Christensen, L’Iran, 132 ff. 23 See R.N. Frye, The Sasanian Remains of Qasr-i Abu Nasr, Cambridge (Mass. 1973), 50 for a discussion on the local archives and legal documents. See also R. Gôbl, Die Tonbullen von Tacht-e Suleiman, Berlin (1976), for seals from fire temples.

24 A collection of these materials was gathered in a Sasanian encyclopaedia called Ayén-namag “ Book of Institutions”, on which see Christensen, op. cit., 62 with references. Also, A. Tafazzoli, ‘“A’in-näma in ET’, p. 692. 25 For examples see Nöldeke-Tabari, 371 f.; @a‘alibi, tr. Zotenberg, 639-40. 26 Buläöuri, Kitäb-i Futuh al-Buldan, ed. de Goeje, Leiden (1866), 464; see further Nöldeke-Tabari, 354 n. 2; Christensen, L’/ran, 393. 27 See A.D.H.

Bivar, Catalogue of the Western Asiatic Seals in the British Museum:

Stamp Seals. II: The Sassanian Dynasty, London (1969), 22 ff. 28 Christensen, op. cit., 394 with n. 2.

29 Cited and translated by L. Gray, ‘‘Peace-negotiations and peace-treaties between pre-Muhammadan Persia and other states”, in J.J. Modi Memorial Volume, Bombay (1930), 136-53 esp. 147 ff. 30 History I 27.6. SIP ideale: 32 Jbid., IV 30. 2 ff. 33 Cf. the case of Mihran, the Mahist.dabir, who accompanied Bahram-i Côbin in his

expedition against the Turks in order to detail the events, see Sähnäma VIII, 345:521%.; Gin SVADRESOts, 34 Ibrahim b. Muhammad Baihaqi Al-Mahäsin wa’l-Masawi, ed. F. Schwally, Giessen (1902), 481. 35 SGhnama IX, 13:53. (tr. A.G. Warner and E. Warner, VIII, London 1923, 199). 3° Jähiz, Al-Hayawan VII, 53: Xusrau Parvez asked a paladin “whether he had known a man more courageous than himself. He replied that he had, and if His Majesty would allow him to speak his mind he would reveal his identity. Xusrau gave his permission, and the man named Bahräm-i Cöbin, narrating a case of utmost bravery and manliness that

226

A. SHAHPUR SHAHBAZI

he had witnessed of him. This, however, was very unpleasant to Xusrau’s ears, for he held

Bahram as his erstwhile enemy. Understandably, the story was not in the X"adäy-nämag! 37 Cf. the denigration of Seröye and Sahrvaraz in early Islamic sources. 38 See J. Marquart, Philologus, Suppl. VI (1895), 559 ff., 594 ff. 39 Sähnäma VI, 384:54-5; VII, 54:876, 59:959f, 96: 1642. 40ST Dida VE DAB ETC RSS ROSE GS 220273 1420127 41 See in detail Yarshater, Camb. Hist. Iran IN/1, 402 ff. 42 Marquart, op. cit., 595ff.; A. Sh. Shahbazi, Cyrus the Great, Founder of the Persian Empire, Shiraz (1970), 328-29. 43 Sahnama V, 400-402. 44 Nationalepos, 9.

45 E, Warner, tr. of Sähnäma, VIII, 171.

6 Sähnäma V, 242 ff. (tr. IV, 146 ff.). Ubi

NES

ETS

CSN URE

eS):

8 Jbid., V, 245:172: sipahi zi Rüm-u zi Barbarsitan.

2 Hoek, NAll, 3232 22. 1323225 Shida NIE 338: VIERTE): 52 This important point was adduced by Nöldeke, Nationalepos, 5. However, his date “from the second half of the fifth century A.D.”, probably needs modification. Xusrau ER D PUR n STbiday

occurs as the name of a rival of Bahräm-i Gor (Dinawari, Axbär al-Tiwäl, Leiden, 1888,

57); Kaus is met with in the compound surname Kausagan by Faustus of Byzantium (Ist half of the fourth century, see Christensen, L’Jran, 106); and Jamasp is known as the name of a brother of Sapir II (J. Marquart, Eränsahr, 163). 53 See M. Mitchiner, Oriental Coins and Their Values: The Ancient and Classical

World, 600 B.C.-A.d. 650, London

1978, 159 No. 890f., 166: Nos. 980 ff. For the title

Kayan as the surname of the Sasanians—see Sahnama VIII, 31:347; 32:36.

54 Nöldeke, op. cit., 12f.cf. Sahnama VIII, 278:3865*, 55 Nôldeke, ibid. © Noldeke-Tabari, xv ff.; Nationalepos, 7 Qazvini, Bist Masala, Il, 30 ff.

12 ff.

nw

58 Ibid., 49-51. ° Nöldeke-Tabarı, 291 ff. 6° A revision of some Avestan texts was likewise ordered by Xusrau Parvéz: Christenu

sen, L’Iran, 491.

61 Nöldeke, Nationalepos, 13 f. 62 As reflected ultimately in the Sahnama, IX, 311 ff.

63 Cf. the poem on Sah Bahram Varjävand, e.g., W.B. Henning, “A Pahlavi Poem”, BSOAS, XIII (1950), 641-48. 64 Sahnama IX, 364-68; Tabari III, 346 ff. 65 Sahnama IX, 313 ff. 66 Jbid., IX, 314: 45: baren säliyan Cärsad bugôarad,

S

ka’z-en tuxma [i.e., Sasanian] gété kas-i nasmarad.

oI Hamzay pa 155: 68 Tarjama-yi Tafsir-i Tabari, I, 197. °° cf. Nöldeke, Nationalepos,

15. See further Yarshater, “Iranian National History”,

395 ff. with literature. 70 Hamza, 24 quoting Möbaö Bahram Son of Mardansäh of Fars. 71 See J. Khaleqi Mutlag, ‘“Abü ‘Ali Balxi’ in E. Yarshater ed., Ency. of Iran and Islam [in Persian], I, Tehran (1357/1978), 1073 ff.

72 Kava 13 Dec. 1920, [= Firdausi va Sähnäma-yi a, ed. H. Yayma’i, Tehran (1349/ 1960). 111]. 73 Hamza, p. 64.

ON THE X"ADAY-NAMAG

297

74 For the written Avesta see Christensen, L’Iran, 54 ff., 491. The Sasanian Avesta was

abridged in the VIII book Denkard (tr. E.W. West in SBE XXXVI: Oxford 1892).

Pahlavi Texts IV,

75 Ibid., 25-6 (= Denkard VIN, 13-14). On the Cihrdaô Nask see A. Christensen, Les

Kayanides, Copenhagen (1931), 38 and passim; Yarshater, op. cit., 415-35 passion.

7° Denkard VIII 13.5 ff. (= West, 26 ff.). 77 More commonly given as “son of Kawäö”; on him see Yarslater, op. cit; 444 ff. 78 Denkard VI11.13.18. (= West. 29-30).

79 Ibid. V111.13.19. For details see Yarshater, op. cit., 411 ff. passion. 81 Denkard IX.21,8 (= West, 214).

82 Jbid., IX.21,17-24 (= West, 216-18). 83 Ibid. IX.22, 14 (= West 220-21). 84 Ibid. IX.22,5-12 (= West 221-23). 8S cf. Nöldeke, Nationalepos 9ff.; Christensen, Les Kayanides cit., 453 ff.

132 ff.; Yarshater, op.

86 See especially the judgement of Hurmazd IV: Sahnama VIII, 345:5°8 ©, 87 Nöldeke-Tabarı 437. 88 Christensen, L’Iran 103f.; Yarshater, op. cit., 457 ff. 8% Christensen, Les Kayanides, 93 ff.

°° As preserved in the Sähnama, Bahmannäma, Azarbarzinnama, Främarznäma. 91 The Letter of Tansar, tr. M. Boyce, Rome (1966) 36, 47; cf. 16-17. 92 Sahnama VII, 258.

°3 Ed. M.R.

Unvala, Bombay (1942) II, 437, cf. Birüni, The Chronology of Ancient

Nations, tr. E. Sachau, London 91879), 123.

°4 Noldeke-Tabari, 70. 95 @a‘alibi, 533. 96 Ibn al-Balxi, Farsnama, ed. G. Le Strange -R.A. Nicolson, Cambridge (1921), 61. 97 Nationalepos, 15. 98 On the Sasanian dating system see A. Christensen in Revue des arts asiatique X (1973), 127; W.B. Henning in Asia Major, N.S. VI (1957), 115ff.; R. Göbl, Sasanian Numismatics, Braunschweig (1971), 23f. °° For details see Yarshater, op. cit., 383-87. 100 A.Sh. Shahbazi, “The ‘traditional date of Zoroaster’ (1977), 26ff. for details.

explained”.

BSOAS,

LX

101 Agathias IV, 24:1. 102

Shahbazi, op. cit., 27f.

103 Kitab al-Tanbih wa’l-Isräf, ed. M.G. de Joeje, Leiden (1897), 97-8. 104 The “officially fixed” figure 260 is also attested in the Persian version of Tabari’s Chronicle, see Shahbazi, op. cit., 27 n. 19. 105 Ardaser’s alleged falsification of the Arsacid history is likewise recorded by Biruni,

Oänün (cited by S.H. Taqizadeh (Taqizada), BSOS IX/1 (1937), 139 and XI (1940), 128). 106 “The Genesis of the Faulty Persian Chronology”, JAOS LXIV/4 (1944), 197 ff. 107

“The ‘Era of Zoroaster’”, JRAS,

1947, 33-40.

108 Zoroaster: Politician or Witch-doctor? Oxford (1951), 37 ff. 109 For the problems of Ardaser’s dates see Henning, Asia Major, NS, VI (1957), 115. 110 As Henning, Zoroaster, 38, stated.

111 See above n. 98. This was an Achaemenid custom, cf. Diodorus Siculus, XVII, 114. 112 See Biruni, Chronology, 121, 190.

113 Thus, the Darband inscriptions are dated “in the year 700”, that is, in A.D. 389, see the reference in E. Herzfeld, Zoroaster and His World, I, Princeton, (1947), 15 (where

they are misinterpreted). Similarly, the inscriptions of Tang-i Azao in west Afghanistan are dated “in 1064”, that is A.D. 754, see Henning, BSOAS,

XX (1957), 342.

228

A. SHAHPUR SHAHBAZI

114 Henning, Zoroaster, 39.

115 Birüni, op. cit., 38, 56, 121; ‘Aba Bakr Bahä’al-Din Mohammad b. Ahmad Abi Basar al-Xaraqi, Muntahi al-Idräk, cited by Taqizada, Gah Sumari dar Iran-i Qadim, Tehran (1316/1937), 23. 116 E.J. Bickerman, ‘The “Zoroastrian Calendar’’’, Archiv Orientälni, 197 ff. esp. 202; M. Boyce, BSOAS, XXXIII (1970), 528. 117 Christensen, op. cit, 270f.

XX XV/2 (1967),

MS bide Tie 119 Taqizada (Gah Sumäri, 34, 280) and S.H. Nyberg, Die Religionen des alten Iran, Leipzig, 1938, 43, narrowly Yazdigard’s calendar reform.

missed

120 Cf. esp. Taqizadeh, JRAS,

this point

because

they accepted

the report

on

1947, 1-2, 36 ff.

121 Shahbazi, BSOAS, XL (1977), 28. with reference. 122 A Sh. Shahbazi, “‘Arsacid Era”, in Ency. Iranica Il (1987), 541 f. with literature. 123 Henning, Asia Major, NS, Il, 1952, 176. 124 Christensen, L'Iran 103 ff.; Yarshater, op. cit., 474.

125 A.Sh. Shahbazi, ““Arsacid Chronology in Traditional History”, in Ency. Iranica II

(1987), 543. 1207 CH Justine

ARAMAIC

PROVERBS

WITH JUDEO—IRANIAN

VERSION

235

Arabic literature abounds in utterances with a strongly critical attitude towards teachers. The classical saying in which the teachers are referred to as untrustworthy is one in which they are mentioned in company with some other professions as people one should not ask for advice. One of the largest lists of such people not to be consulted is the following: La tusawir mu‘alliman wa-là ra‘iya ghanamin wa-lä kathira lqu'üdi ma'a I-nisa’i wa-la sähiba häjatin yuridu gadä’ahäa wa-la xa@ifan wa-la häginan (Al-IbSıhi, Mustatraf, 100). “Do not consult a teacher, or a shepherd of sheep, or one who spends much time in the company of women,

or one who has an interest and wishes to carry it out, or one

who fears, or one who administers enemas”. Most other occurrences of

this saying contain no more than three or four categories of people not to be consulted. A representative collection of early Arabic sayings disparaging of teachers of young children is in Jahiz (776-868/9 CE), Bayan 1:248f. A whole treatise was written by Jahiz on the subject of teachers; it was lost in the original, but a selection from the text is extant in a composition written by ‘Ubaydalläh b. Hassan, recently edited and published by Geries (1980). In the extant selections there are no negative observations on teachers (apart from the allusion to the custom of pederasty, which must have had some currency among teachers, as is confirmed in other Arabic sources). On Jahiz’s writing concerning school masters cf. the study by ‘A. M. Harun 1946. Other prominent references in Arabic literature to teachers, where critical remarks are found, are Tha‘alibi, Latä’if, 121; Bayhaqi, Mahasin II, 409; Raghib al-Isbahani, Muhädara I, 52-56; Ibn al-Jawzi, Hamga, 131-

185: R 7 by: Since y and w are not clearly distinguished in the script, it is possible to read here bw, especially in view of the modern Zoroastrian imperative form bu (Geiger 1898/1901 : 398; Ivanow 1940: 56). R 8 nyst corresponds to NP nisast(an). A similar form is attested in the Zoroastrian

dialect:

nastwun,

cf.

Ivanow

1940:39,

132;

Sorushian

1956: 163, and in Zarf niste, cf. Zukovskij 1888: 201. R 13 hwz’d: The context is not clear, but it is possible to assume that this is a form of the verb “to wish, desire”. If this assumption is correct,

the form corresponds not to MPT, where the verb has the present tense xw’h-, but to Manichaean Parthian, where the present tense form is wx’z- (cf. Henning 1933:187; Ghilain 1939:69), although our form does not display the typical Parthian transposition x” > wx. Another possible fornr of the same verb, again with no help from the context, is hwzt’ (V 12).

236

SHAUL SHAKED

V 3 The ending of the abstract noun in dwsmnyh is typical of MPT, from which it developed into the ending -7 of NP, but it is still attested in some early Judaeo-Persian (JP) texts, e.g. in the Karaite Sefer Misvot (edited MacKenzie 1968). This ending was already noted for JudaeoPersian by Geiger 1898/1901:411. V 3-7 The Aramaic phrase is quite clear, but the connection between the two dicta seems incongruous. V4 ‘An Aramaean’ presumably denotes a pagan; it is noteworthy that the Judaeo-Iranian version (line 6) adds a gloss on the word ‘Aramaean’ which explains it as referring to Armenians. This gloss is valuable for two reasons: it indicates that the proverbs translated here into a Judaeo-Iranian language were not composed in the close environment of the author of the Iranian fragment and were preseumably copied from an old original and therefore required not only translation but also occasional explanation to make them intelligible; and it may also provide us with some hint as to the area in which the Iranian translator lived, namely a place where the most common gentiles (understood by the translator to be Christians, rather than Muslims) were Armenians, who could be identified with the ancient designation Arama’a in the original Aramaic saying. It may be noted that the term Arama’a was in the Talmudic period often identified with the common Gentiles of the environment, the Romans. Northern Iran springs to mind as a likely place, but in view of the linguistic affinities of our text with the central Iranıan dialects, one may wonder whether Armenians were not already present in the Färs area at the time of our fragment. VS hryn- is a verbal form corresponding to xar- in Standard Persian. This is the same verb that we have in the Zoroastrian dialect, viz. herin-; cf. Ivanow

1940: 38, 121 s.v. heridwun; Sorushian

1956: 182 s.vv. herid-

mun, heridvun. Compare also Geiger 1898/1901: 387; Lorimer 454. For cys note that this word is close in form to Standard NP £iz (Pth., Phl. cis), although in MP and in certain varieties of older NP the form of this word was tis. Cf. Tedesco 1921:209; Henning 1958: 98, and, for

early JP, the Law-report from Ahwaz in the edition of Asmussen 1965: 52, line 9 (it may be noted that tysy is not the same as NP ¢izi, as suggested by Asmussen, ibid. p. 57, for the -y ending in this case is an idafa. Cf. Shaked 1971:182 n.21); the Karaite Sefer Misvot, MacKenzie 1968:252; the Karaite legal deed published in Shaked 1972 (cf. ibid. p. 54), and several other unpublished fragments in Judaeo-Persian from the Cairo Geniza. Some notes on the dialectology of this word in Judaeo-Persian texts are given in Lazard 1968:86. It would be a

ARAMAIC

PROVERBS

WITH JUDEO—IRANIAN

VERSION

231

mistake to assume that cys occurs here only because the sentence is negative; in line 14 below we have it occurring in a positive context. ‘c preserves an older postvocalic -¢ that tended already in Middle Persian and Parthian to be replaced by -z; cf. Tedesco 1921: 192. V6 wy’: the demonstrative ‘w and y’ “place”, followed by kw, which serves in its etymological function, as the relative pronoun “where”. For o “that”, yu “place” and ko “‘where” in the Zoroastrian dialect cf. Ivanow

1940: 35, 65, 153.

mrtwm: The -t- which is preserved after a voiced consonant is another departure from the phonetics of Persian. V 7 bnd corresponds to NP bavand. hwbs, the imperative form which corresponds to the Persian verb xuft-, xusp-. The present stem of the type xubs- is attested in JudaeoPersian, cf. xwbs-, xufs- in Geiger 1898/1901:412; Asmussen 1969: 102; Mainz 1977: 94.

Nôldeke

1902: 12;

V 8 hswbyn is presumably connected to the Persian verb äsuftan, pr. st. asub. The form h$wb- suggests that we have to do with a present stem of the verb derived directly from the base x$up-, without a preverb. V9 ‘yc ky seems to be a combination meaning “no one”, with ky corresponding to NP kas. ki is attested in this sense in Keëe (cf.

Zukovskij 1888: 73). For pylw and swsbyn’ cf. above, note to R 6. V 12 hwzt’ is likely to be a form derived from the verb “to desire”, for

which cf. above, commentary to R 13. The difficulty about this hypothesis is that this is not the expected form of the passive participle, which in Pth is wx’st (MPT xw st). Vi4hy = every"? : cySy§ °c = MP. tis az-e$. In this case az (or ac) seems to operate as a postposition. V 15 dy is the etymologically more correct form of the verb dädan, identical to MPT dy-; NP. dih has a secondary -h. Some general observations on the verbs: The present tense of the verb “to do” is kr- (R 4,6,14,16; V 14); this is the form of the present tense in the Zoroastrian dialect of Yazd, among other dialects (cf. Ivanow 1940: 39, 125f.; Zukovskij 1888:171 f.). On the dialectological differentiation of kar- and kun- see Tedesco 19212230 0 Other present tense forms, partly discussed in the commentary above, are: “to sleep” hwbs-; “to buy” hryn-; “to be” b- (cf. by or bw in R7;

238

SHAUL SHAKED

b'nd in V 7); “to irritate’ or “fool” hswbyn (V 8); “to give” dy-; “to praise” is 'yst'yn- (R 5).

NOTES ! See MacKenzie 1968; Shaked 1972, 1982, and 1988. 2 See Yarshater 1974, 1977. For the latter article, on the secret Jewish jargon based on Persian, cf. also the remarks by Lazard 1978.

3 For the Aramaic original of these proverbs I have consulted J.C. Greenfield. For the Arabic material concerning teachers I have received references from M.J. Kister. I discussed the Jewish material with Y. Sussmann. P.O. Skjerve made useful suggestions for the interpretation of the text. I take advantage of this opportunity to mention Dr. Robert Brody, who drew my attention to this fragment in spring 1988, when he also pointed out to me several other Judaeo-Iranian texts in the Geniza collection of Cambridge that had escaped my notice. Thanks are also due to the syndics of Cambridge University Library, and especially to Dr. Stefan Reif, head of the Geniza Research Unit, for permission to publish this fragment. * Shaked 1988.

REFERENCES

AND ABREVIATIONS

The following abbreviations have been used: JP = Judaeo-Persian; MPT = Manichaean Middle Persian; NP = New Persian; Pth = Parthian. Asmussen, J.P. 1965. ‘“‘Judaeo-persica II”, Acta Orientalia 19: 49-60. —. 1969. “A select list of words from the Vatican Judaeo-Persian Pentateuch (Genesis), K.R. Cama Oriental Institute Golden Jubilee Volume, Bombay, 93-102. Bayhaqi, Ibrahim b. Muhammad. al-Mahäsin wa-l-masawi’, ed. Muhammad Abu I-Fadl Ibrahim, Cairo n.d. Boyce, 1977. A Word-list of Manichaean Middle Persian and Parthian (Acta Iranica 9a), Tehran-Liége-Leiden: Brill. Christensen, A. (ed.). 1939. /ranische Dialektaufzeichnungen aus dem Nachlass von F.C. Andreas, zasammen mit K. Barr und W. Henning bearbeitet und herausgegeben, I (Abhandlungen der Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Gottingen, Phil.-hist. Klasse, 3. Folge, Nr. 11), Berlin. Geiger, W. 1898/1901. “Kleinere Dialekte und Dialektgruppen”, Grundriss der iranischen Philologie I, 2: 287-423. Ghilain, A. 1939. Essai sur la langue parthe. Son systeme verbal d’apres les textes manicheens du Turkestan oriental (Bibliothèque du Muséon, 9), Louvain. Harun, ‘Abd al-Salam Muhammad. 1956. “al-Jähiz wa-I-mu’allimün”, al-Kitäb 2:564-571. Henning, W.B. 1933. “Das Verbum des Mittelpersischen der Turfanfragmente”, ZII 9: 158-253. —. 1958. “Mitteliranisch”, Handbuch der Orientalistik I, IV, 1, Leiden, 20-129.

ARAMAIC PROVERBS WITH JUDEO—IRANIAN VERSION

239

Ibn al-Jawzi, Abü |-Faraj ‘Abd al-Rahmän, Akhbar al-hamgä wa-l-mughaffalin, ed. Käzim al-Muzaffar, Najaf 1966. Ibsihi, Sihäb al-Din b. Muhammad, al-Mustatraf fi kull fann mustazraf, ed. ‘Abdallah Anis al-Tabbä‘, Beirut 1980. Ivanow, W. 1940. The Gabri dialect spoken by the Zoroastrians of Persia (Estratto dalla Rivista degli Studi Orientali, 16), Rome.

Jahiz, Abu “Uthman ‘Amr b. Bahr, al-Bayan wa-l-tabyin, ed. ‘Abd al-Saläm Muhammad

Härün, 4th ed., 4 vols., Cairo 1975.

Geries, Ibrahim Khalil. 1980. Kitabani li-l-Jahiz: Kitab al-mu‘allimin wa-Kitabfi l-radd ‘ala l-mu$abbiha (Tel Aviv University, Diräsät wa-nusüs adabiyya, 3), Acre: Saruji.

Lazard, G. 1968. “La dialectologie du jud&o-persan”, Studies in Bibliography and Booklore 8: 77-98. —. 1978. “Note sur le jargon des Juifs d’Iran”, JA, 251-255. Liebermann, S. 1940. Midreshe Teman (Yemenite midrashim. A lecture on the Yemenite midrashim, their character and value), Jerusalem. 2nd ed., Jerusalem 1970. Lorimer, D.L.R. 1916. “Notes on the Gabri dialect of Modern Persian”, JRAS, 423-489. MacKenzie, D.N. 1968. ‘An early Jewish-Persian argument”, BSOAS 31: 249269. Mainz, D. 1977. “Vocabulaire judéo-persan’’, Studia Iranica 6: 75-95. Nöldeke, Th. 1902. ‘Zum mittelpersischen”,

WZKM

16: 1-12.

Al-Raghib Al-Isbahani, Abu I-Qäsim Husayn b. Muhammad, Muhädarat aludaba’ wa-muhäwarät al-su‘arad’ wa-l-bulagha’, Beyrut 1961. Shaked, S. 1971. ““Judaeo-Persian notes”, Israel Oriental Studies 1: 178-182.

—. —.

1972. “An early Karaite document in Judaeo-Persian” (Hebrew with English summary), Tarbiz, 41: 49-58. 1982. “Two Judaeo-Iranian contributions: 1. Iranian functions in the Book of Esther; 2. Fragments of two Karaite commentaries on Daniel in Judaeo-Persian”, in S. Shaked, (ed.), /rano-Judaica, Jerusalem: The BenZvi Institute, 292-322. à

—. 1988. “An early Geniza fragment in an unknown Iranian dialect”, A Green Leaf. Papers in Honour of Jes P. Asmussen (Acta Iranica Hommages, 12), Leiden: Brill, 219-235. Sorushian, J.S. 1956. Farhang-e Behdinän, ed. M. Sotuda, Tehran. Tedesco,

P.

1921.

“‘Dialektologie

der westiranischen

Turfanfragmente”,

Le

Monde Oriental 15: 184-258. : Al-Tha‘alibi, Aba Mansür, al-Latä’if wa-l-zarä'if, Cairo 1324. Yarshater, E. 1974. “The Jewish communities of Persia and their dialects”, Mémorial Jean de Menasce, Louvain-Teheran, 453-466. —. 1977. “The hybrid language of the Jewish communities of Persia”, JAOS 97: 1-7. Zukovskij, V.A. 1888. Materialy dlja izuéenija persidskix nareëij 1, St. Petersburg.

NICHOLAS SIMS-WILLIAMS OLD PERSIAN PATISUVARNA “CUP” One of the Elamite tablets from Persepolis published by R.T. Hallock (PF 1011:4-6) contains the sequence hh.bat-ti-is-mar-na-bar-ra-is, which the editor divided into hh.Bar-ti-is-mar “from Battis” (a personal name) and na-bar-ra-is (a word otherwise unknown)’. In favour of this interpretation is the fact that the name Batti$ is attested in several other tablets, e.g. PF 306, PF 1957 and PF 1978, all three of which seem to refer to a single individual, a storekeeper (*hampära-bara-) at the fortress of Udarakka, though there is nothing in the content of PF 1011 to suggest a link with this BattiS or any other bearer of the name. Against it are the unexplained na-bar-ra-is (Hallock translates: “rations from Battis, (for?) the naparras (of?) the servants’’) and the fact that a personal name with the ablatival suffix -mar does not occur at this point in other texts of the same type. A different interpretation has been proposed by W. Hinz, who understands bat-ti-is-mar-na-bar-ra-is as representing an Old Persian *patisxwarna-bara- ‘‘napkin-bearer” (German ‘‘Mundtuchtrager’’), hence “valet, body-servant”?. The reading hh.bar-hu-[ban-tar bat-ti]-ismar-na-bar-ra ‘Barhubantar(?), der Mundtuchtrager’? in an unpublished tablet (Fort. 5840= L;-1572) would seem to provide some support for the interpretation of the sequence as a single word, but Hinz’s assumption that the final -(i)s is equivalent to -(i)s, an ending often, but optionally, attached to Elamite renderings of Old Persian nouns, is problematic*. It is not clear whether Hinz regards Hallock’s -is aS a misreading, miswriting, or variant spelling of the normal -is; in 1973 he quoted the word as read by Hallock without commenting on the unusual spelling, but in later publications he silently emends -is to -if. I am grateful to Charles E. Jones, Research Archivist at the Oriental Institute, Chicago, for confirmation that the sign is in fact -is, as read by Hallock°®. That -is is a purely graphic error for -is seems unlikely, since the two signs do not greatly resemble one another, whilst lack of other examples tells against the idea of a spelling variant. Although the unexplained -is remains, at least for the moment, a serious difficulty, it is tempting to follow Hinz in his further deductions that the preceding syllables represent an occupational designation »

OLD PERSIAN PATISUVARNA “CUP”

241

ending in bara- “bearer” and that the prior component of the compound is a word of the form *patisxwarna- (or rather *patisuvarna-, as it should appear in standard Old Persian), which seems intrinsically plausible. However, Hinz’s translation of *patisuvarna- as “napkin” is a mere guess, based only on the supposed literal sense “(that which is) opposite the jaws” of the apparently equivalent Avestan compound paitis.x"’arana- “upper part of the face”7. In view of such uncertainties, it is a matter of great good fortune that the Old Persian word reconstructed on the basis of these Elamite forms is in fact attested, in a context which puts its meaning beyond doubt, in an as yet unpublished bilingual inscription. The object which bears the inscription is a large silver vessel, a shallow cup or bowl®, which was in private possession a few years ago when a photograph was shown to me; unfortunately no information is available concerning its provenance or its present whereabouts. The inscription consists of one line each of Babylonian and Old Persian, as follows: Babylonian: ka-a-su KU!BABBAR! as-ta-ak-sa-as-su LUGAL e-puus “silver cup made (for) King Artaxerxes”. I am grateful to Professor W.G. Lambert both for the above reading and for the following note thereto: Of the signs, SU in käsu “cup” is not written the same way as in the royal name, though both are acceptable, while KU.BABBAR is written as if ZA.GIS. The ZA is standard Neo-Elamite in KU.BABBAR, but its BABBAR in this group is more elaborate than GIS. The Akkadian syntax is weak. After “silver cup” one would expect sa “of” or ana “for”. The change of r to $, attested here by the spelling as-ta-ak-Sa-assu for Artaxerxes, is well attested in Late Babylonian in Akkadian

words?. Old Persian: p-t-i-$-u-v-r-n-m: a-r-d-t-i-n-m: a-r-t-x-$-ç-a: x-$-a-y-0-iy-h-y-a: vi-i-0-i-y-a: k-r-t-m!® “silver cup made in the palace of King Artaxerxes’. In the fourth word the signs y and @ are run together. A few signs in the last two words were not quite clear in the photograph from which I read the inscription, but no uncertainty results, since the wording conforms to a common pattern (cf. DPc, DPi, XH, A'D). Luckily the first two

words,

both of which

occur

here for the first time in our

limited corpus of Old Persian texts, are absolutely clear. The second is to be read as (a)rdatainam, nom. sg. n. of (a)rdataina- “made of silver”, the expected adjectival derivative of (a)rdata- “silver”, while the first attests the patisuvarna- discussed above, showing it to be a

242

NICHOLAS SIMS-WILLIAMS

neuter noun meaning “cup”. A *patisuvarna-bara- would thus be a “cup-bearer”. Etymologically, it is hard to imagine any alternative to the assumption that pati-suvar-na- “cup” is a derivative of the root hvar “to drink, consume, eat”, which correctly appears as °svar, Old Persian °Suvar, after the prefix pati-. The same prefix occurs in another word for “cup”, Pahlavi pyg’7/, Persian paiydla, piyala, Sogdian pty'd, which may derive from *pati-gala-(ka-)!1 and belong to the root of Persian äyärdan “to swallow’, ayal ‘swallowing of unchewed food”, Sanskrit girati, gilati ‘‘swallows”’!?. The ambiguity of the Old Persian writing system provides no means of deciding whether the suffix is -na- (as in Avestan avö.x’arana- “watering place”, taÿta aouharana “drinking-cups”, Arm. axor, Pahlavi axwarr, Persian äxur ““manger, stable”) or -ana- (as in Pahlavi xwaran ‘‘meal, banquet”, Parthian 'xwrn “‘id.’’), though the concrete rather than abstract meaning makes the former more likely !$. However,

the forms

of this word

which

survive into Middle

Persian

provide conclusive evidence in favour of patisuvarna- rather than *patisuvarana-. The forms in question are Pahlavi ptswl, ptshwl, and ptshw’, all of which are attested both in the meaning “dish, bowl” and as translation of Avestan paitis.x’arana- “upper part of the face”. The word occurs several times in each sense in the Pahlavi Vendidad: ‘‘dish, bowl” in V 5.14, 7.73 (~ Avestan ävuharana-), 16.7; “upper part of the face” in V 3.14, 8.43, 8.44, 9.16, 9.40. The manuscript readings registered by the editors show no consistent pattern in the employment of the various spellings, which the scribes appear to have regarded—rightly or wrongly—as interchangeable!*. For the coexistence of forms with and without A one may compare such doublets as Pahlavi dwshw’/ and dwsw'l [dus(x)wär] “difficult, disagreeable’, Persian nisx’ar and nisvar “cud”. It is usually assumed that the forms with (-sxw- are older and that -sw- results from simplification of the three-consonant cluster !. In that case pt$wl [padiswarr] would be a secondary variant of ptshwl [padisxwarr]. However, one cannot exclude the possibility that padiswarr is a direct descendant of Old Persian patisuvarna- and that padisxwarr (whose -x-, like that of Avestan paitis.x"arana-, is in any case a non-etymological accretion due to the the influence of cognates with initial x°-)!6 is the later form. The third form ptshw7 [padisxwar], which appears to have borrowed its -d- from xwär “food” etc., has no claim to be regarded as ancient.

OLD PERSIAN PATISUVARNA

“CUP”

243

NOTES ' R.T. Hallock, Persepolis Fortification Tablets, Chicago 1969, p. 293. ? W. Hinz, Neue Wege im Altpersischen, Wiesbaden 1973, p. 96; Altiranisches Sprachgut der Nebenüberlieferungen, Wiesbaden 3 W. Hinz and H. Koch, Elamisches

1975, p. 189. Wörterbuch, I, Berlin 1987, p. 170.

* It is not necessary here to discuss the origin and significance of this -s, which is discussed in detail in a forthcoming article by I. Gershevitch (“The Old Persian lisp”, paper presented at the First European Conference of Iranian Studies, Turin, September 1987). ° Mr Jones also very kindly re-examined the tablet Fort. 5840 for me, giving his own reading of the crucial word as /(- )is-mar-"na(?)-bar-ra’ and Hallock’s as -]is’-mar-‘na(?)bar-ra’. The restoration proposed by Hinz and Koch is thus quite possible, but less certain than appears from the Elamisches Wörterbuch. ° A theoretically possible alternative reading would be *patismarna-bara-, which would be a conceivable Old Persian term for “remembrancer’”. 7 The Avestan word is interpreted thus by C. Bartholomae, Altiranisches Würterbuch, Strassburg 1893, col. 838, although he translates the compound ayawhd.paitisx*arana“iron-jawed” (ibid., col. 156) as if paitis.x’arana- were synonymous with the simple *x¥"arana- “jaw”. Cf. also ha-wuharana- (dual) ““cheeks’” < “what encloses the jaws” (ibid., col. 1767). 8 Technically, a phiale mesomphalos decorated with egg-shaped lobes. ° For other instances of As- in this name see R. Zadok, Orientalia Lovaniensia Periodica, XV, 1984, pp. 73-4 (a reference kindly supplied by Professor M.W. Stolper). 10 Unfortunately my notes fail to indicate whether the text ends with a word-divider. 11 Thus M. Schwartz, ZDMG,

CXX,

1970, p. 292 n. 12, who had in mind a connexion

with Persian dydrdan in the sense “to moisten” (cf. the next footnote) rather than the sense “to swallow”. 12 Cf. P. Horn, Grundriss der neupersischen Etymologie, Strassburg 1893, p.9; G. Morgenstierne, /rano-Dardica, Wiesbaden

1973, p. 165. Persian àyärdan in the sense “to

moisten’’ may belong to an etymologically distinct root, either that of Sanskrit jigharti, gharati “sprinkles” with Horn, loc. cit., and M. Mayrhofer, Kurzgefaßtes etymologisches Wörterbuch des Altindischen, 1, Heidelberg 1956, p. 433, or that of Sanskrit galati “drips” with M. Schwartz, loc. cit.

’

13 In view of cases such as Elamite d. tu-ir-ma-ir (and similar spellings) for Old Persian Ouravahar(a)- the evidence of Elamite bat-ti-i$-mar-na° would not be quite conclusive on

this point even if it were certain that it represents this Old Persian word. 14 F. Spiegel, Avesta, die heiligen Schriften der Parsen, I, Vienna 1853; D.P. Sanjana, The Zand i Javit shéda dad or the Pahlavi version of the Avesta Vendidad, Bombay

1895;

H. Jamasp, Vendidäd, I, Bombay 1907. I am grateful to Dr A.V. Williams for the information that prsw/ “dish” occurs twice in B.N. Dhabhar, The Pahlavi Rivayat accompanying the Dädistän-i Dinik, Bombay 1913, Chap. 58, §9 and $18 (pp. 173 and 175), according to Dhabhar without manuscript variant in either passage. 15 Cf. W.B. Henning, Annali dell’ Istituto Universitario Orientale di Napoli, Sezione Linguistica, VI, 1965, p. 33 n. 1. 16 Cf. C. Bartholomae, Grundriss der iranischen Philologie, 1/1, Strassburg 1895-1901,

p. 182.

BERTOLD SPULER LENORE Lenore fuhr ums Morgenrot empor aus schweren Träumen

und warf sich hin zur Erde mit wütiger Gebärde sagt der Göttinger Dichter Gottfried August Bürger (1773). Der Grund für Lenores Verhalten während ihrer Ägypten-Reise bestand darin, daß sie in ihrem Hotelzimmer gellende Lautsprecher durch die noch düsteren Straßen Kairos rasen hörte, die der Bevölkerung verkündeten: das Ramadän habe schon begonnen, obwohl nach den Taschenkalendern erst der letzte Sa‘ban war. Einer der ‘Ulama’ in Sa‘udisch-Arabien hatte nämlich verlauten lassen, er habe die ganz schmale Mondsichel

schon in der ablaufenden

Nacht gesehen. Das war freilich gar nicht möglich, da beim Phasenwechsel des mondes in der kommenden Nacht in Indonesien eine totale Mondfinsternis zu beobachten war, wie sie nur genau bei Neumond stattfindet, sodaß so früh, wie angegeben, eine Beobachtung der jungen Mondsichel gar nicht möglich war. Ohne auf diesen Umstand einzugehen, erklärte die ägyptische Regierung, daß von sofort an gefastet werden müss: die feierlichen Einladungen zum letzten Tag des Sa‘ban, vor dem Beginn des Fastens, mußten also abgesagt werden, obwohl Lenore schon alles vorbereitet hatte. Diese Nachricht bedeutete gleichzeitig: es ist heute nicht der letzte Sa‘bän, sondern schon der 1. Ramadän, der nun auf einen Samstag fiel, nicht auf einen Sonntag, wie

in den Taschen- und Abreiß-Kalendern angegeben!. Damit war der ganze Higra-Kalender durcheinander geraten: alle Voraussagen in Kalendern waren nicht mehr gültig: am Sonntag war vielmehr der 2. Ramadän, und für den ganzen Monat verschoben sich die Daten entsprechend. Man stelle sich zum Vergleich vor, was geschähe, wenn bei uns im Morgengrauen des 24. Dezember verkündet würde, es sei in Wirklichkeit schon der 25. Dezember.

Damit fielen alle Weihnachtsfeiern

aus,

die üblicherweise für den Heiligen Abend mit viel Mühe und Kosten vorbereitet werden. Auch da wären bei uns Hausfrauen und Kinder +

LENORE

245

sehr verärgert und verhielten sich wie Lenore. - Das Weihnachtsfest teilt übrigens mit dem Higra-Kalender die Eigenschaft, daß es stets auf das gleiche Monatsdatum - und also auf verschiedene Wochentage - fällt, anders als Ostern und Pfingsten. Bei einer solchen Regelung wären auch bei uns alle Taschenlander ungültig; womöglich verschöbe sich sogar das Neujahrsfest. Schon al-Biruni gibt in seiner Chronologie (aus dem Ende des 10. Jhs.) an?, daß der Ramadan stets 30 Tage dauere und nicht verkürzt werden

dürfe,

damit

die Länge

des Fastens

den religiösen

Pflichten

entspreche. Wenn man dabei blieb, so hatte sich auch der 1. Sawwäl um einen Tag verschoben und mußte auf den Montag, 11. Juli 1983, nicht auf Dienstag, den 12. Juli fallen. Sonst hätte der Ramadän 31 Tage zählen müssen - und so lange islamische Monate gibt es nicht. In der Tat wird der Tag des Fastenbrechens (jaum al-fitr) in den einzelnen islamischen Staaten unterschiedlich festgesetzt?. 1986 wurde das Fest in Sa‘udisch-Arabien und andern islamischen Staaten am Freitag, dem 6. Juni begangen, während im benachbarten Bahrain dafür Sonntag, der 8. Juni bestimmt war. Daß solche Unterschiede wie in dem genannten Jahr in den Nachbarstaaten Bahrain und Kuwait - auf unterschiedlicher Beobachtung der Mondsichel beruhen, ist unmöglich: es bedeutet vielmehr eine Entscheidung der Regierung, die jedesmal mit einer Verschiebung der Monatsdaten verbunden ist*. Bei der weiten Ausdehnung der islamischen Welt von Osten (Philippinen und Indonesien) bis Westen (Marokko) und überdies von Norden (Kazan) bis süden (Timbuktu) sind Unterschiede in der Beobachtung der Mondsichel durchaus möglich, da in Indonesien ja (am gleichen gregorianischen Datum) viel früher Nacht wird, als etwa in Agadir. So kann es zu wirklichen Unterschieden in der Beobachtung kommen, die freilich den islamischen Kalender in einzelnen Ländern in Verwirrung bringen und damit eine Vorausberechnung und eine internationale Termin-Festsetzung unmöglich machen. Damit ist der Higra-Kalender kein sicheres Mittel der Datierung. Ihn dazu zu machen, wäre nur möglich, wenn man für die gesamte islamische Welt etwa die Lichtverhältnisse

in Mekka

und

Medina

für verbindlich

erklärte, so wie die

dortigen Tageszeiten auch für das Fasten in nordischen Ländern gelten, wo im Hochsommer die Sonne nie untergeht. Alle einschlägigen astronomischen Daten lassen sich heutzutage auf Sekunden-Bruchteile genau berechnen‘. Das Fasten während eines ganzen Monats ist - vor allem während der heißen Jahrszeit - eine schwere religiöse Verpflichtung für die

246

BERTOLD SPULER

Muslime, insbesondere, wenn sie (z.B. in Europa) in einer Umgebung leben, die sich daran nicht beteiligt. So sieht man also dem Tag des Fastenbrechens mit besonderer Freude entgegen. Das wußte auch der Leiter des “Unabhängigen islamschen Gemeindedienstes” in Berlin, alQonavi. Er drängte also die Direktoren der Sternwarten in Deutschland, zum erwarteten Zeitpunkt den Himmel mit Fernrohren genau zu beobachten. Tatsächlich konnte eine Beobachter der Berliner WilhelmFoerster-Sternwarte schon früher als erwartet mit Hilfe eines Fernrohres die schmale Mondsichel entdecken, als sie mit bloBem Auge noch nicht zu sehen war. So erklärte al-Qonavı das Fasten für beendet. Freilich lehnten die Strenggläubigen in der Gemeinde diesen Entscheid ab, daß der Beobachter kein Muslim gewesen sei®.

So läßt sich für die Berechnung der Daten also auch kein Computer herstellen, wie das kürzlich von Berlin aus vorgeschlagen worden war’. Die Muslime haben aus den Unsicherheiten ihres Kalenders schon lang der Schluß gezogen, daß eine exakte, überall gültige Fixierung nur mit Hilfe des abendländischen Kalenders möglich ist. Hatte doch das Christentum den großen Vorteil, in einen recht exakten Kalender hinein geboren zu werden: den julianischen, der 46 v.C. von Julius Caesar eingeführt worden war (und 1582 durch Papst Gregor XIII. im gregorianischen Kalender noch präzisiert wurde). Er ist so verlässlich, daß alle Wochen-

und

Monatsdaten

immer

und

überall

übereinstimmen,

daß alle Feste für die gesamte Christenheit auf den gleichen Tag fallen (mit der Verscheibung von der Datum-Grenze' im Stillen Ozean westwärts) und alle Daten auf Jahre (und Jahrhunderte) hinaus genau zu berechnen sind. Entspricht dieser Kalender doch der göttlichen Weltordnung entsprechend dem Umlauf von Sonne, Erde und Mond so genau, wie das nur möglich ist: er ist damit weltweit der maßgebende Kalender geworden. Solange Muslime in Berlin die Sternwarten bedrängen, ein möglichst frühes Datum für das Ende des Ramadän zu bestimmen, und solange Lenore im Schlaf hochfährt, wenn sie an den Higra-Kalender denkt, ist mit ihm keine verläßliche Datierung zu erreichen.

ANMERKUNGEN ' So am Sonnatg, dem 12. Juni 1983, der nach den Angaben der Tabellen dem 1. Ramadan 1403 H. entsprechen sollte. Vgl. auch “Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung” (hinfort angekürzt “FAZ”) 16. juni 1983, S. 9 (Wüstenfeld-Mahler, Umrechnungstabellen,

3. Aufl., S. 30).

LENORE

247

2 Hrsg. von Eduard Sachau, Leipzig 1878, S. 65/67. 3 Einzelheiten

bei Bertold

Spuler:

“Con

amore”,

1980, S. 359-365. Eine Sammlung von Datenangaben Halm:

“Der Mann

in Gesammelte

Aufsätze,

Leiden

für das Mittelalter bringt Heinz

auf dem Esel”, in Die Welt des Orients XV,

1984, S. 144-204, bes.

S. 146-148. * Eine ähnliche Verschiebung - auch in Nachbarländern - gab es Ende Mai 1987: FAZ 30. April 1987, S. 9. 5 Muhammad Ilyas: “New moon’s first visibility: Review of Astronomy and Current Islamic Calendrical Practice”, in /slamic Culture 56, 1982, S. 43-63. Ders.: “New Moon’s

first visibility?: Lunar Date Line (LDL) Calculations, Sighting and Calendar”, in /s/amic Culture 57, 1983, S. 87-112. Ders.: ‘Le calendrier de l’Hégire: Une crise scientifique”, in

Islam Today|L'Islam aujourd'hui III, 1985, S. 114-116. Ders.: “Scientific Crisis in Higra Calendar”, in Islam Today II, 1985, S. 40-42. Hasan Ahmad Minai: “Fixation of Lunar Dates”, in Islamic Order 2/IV, 1980, S. 87-100. R.B. Serjeant, A.D. King, I. Akwa‘:

Calendars, the Time of Day and Mathematic Astronomy: San‘a, an Arabian Islamic City, hrsg. von Serjeant, London

1983 (Lewock/World of Islam/Festival Trust), S. 32-35.

& FAZ 12. Juli 1983; S. 8. 7 Von Johannes Lindner, Zabel-Krüger-Damm 84 c, Berlin 26.

ZSIGMOND

TELEGDI

HUMBOLDT ÜBER PERSISCH UND SPRACHVERGLEICHUNG 1. In Humboldts

handschriftlichem

Nachlass

fand sich, unvollendet,

eine umfangreiche Abhandlung “Über die Verschiedenheiten des menschlichen Sprachbaues”, die, in den Jahren 1827-1829 geschrieben, erst 1907 veröffentlicht wurde!; sie war als eine Bearbeitung der Grundideen alles Sprachbaues, und damit als eine Einleitung in die allgemeine Sprachkunde,

die Humboldt

zu gründen

suchte,

gedacht?.

In einem

Kapitel des dritten Abschnitts (“Von der Vertheilung der Sprache unter mehrere Nationen’) kommt Humboldt auf das Persische zu sprechen. Er sieht sich vor das Problem gestellt, “wie ein geschichtlicher Zusammenhang zwischen Sprachen in Rücksicht auf ihre Entstehung vorhanden sein kann’, das heißt in Humboldts Sinn: auf welche Weisen eine Sprache aus einer (oder mehreren) anderen entstehen mag. Zur Lösung des Problems erscheint vor allem nötig zu bestimmen, wann eine Sprache, die ja unaufhaltsam im Wandel begriffen ist, aufhört dieselbe zu sein. Für Humboldt beruht die Identität einer Sprache auf ihrer individuellen “Form”, praktisch auf ihrem grammatischen Bau, so daß der Übergang dieses in einen anderen der Übergang der Sprache in eine andere ist*. Darin liegt, daß die ‘“‘Einerleiheit’’, d.h.

die Verwandtschaft von Sprachen sich in erster Linie in ihrer Grammatik zeigen muß. Diese Ansicht gehörte zum Erbe des XVIII. Jahrhunderts. Nachdem während des Mittelalters im katholischen Europa das Latein der einzige Gegenstand grammatischen Studiums war, weitet sich vom XVI. Jahrhundert an der Umkreis der grammatisch bearbeiteten Sprachen stürmisch aus. Bis zum Ende des XVIII. waren nach J.H. Rowe Grammatiken von mindestens 96 Sprachen im Druck erschienen. Im Zusammenhang damit erwacht das gelehrte, freilich mehr historische Interesse für die Verwandtschaftsverhältnisse der Sprachen. Es wurde zunächst versucht, diese Verhältnisse

durch Wortvergleich,

Feststellung von

Ähn-

lichkeiten im Wortschatz der betrachteten Sprachen aufzuhellen, man mußte sich aber überzeugen, daß dieses Verfahren zu keinem gesicher-

ten Ergebnis führte, vielmehr die etymologische Forschung — da es ohne begründete Kriterien zur Auswahl des genetisch Zusammengehö»

HUMBOLDT ÜBER PERSISCH

249

renden vorging — in Mißkredit brachte. Allmählich setzte sich dafür die Erkenntnis durch, daß das grammatische System als der grundlegende, am festesten organisierte Teil einer Sprache, den Ursprung dieser am treuesten bewahrt, und sie als ein Individuum unter den Sprachen am bestimmtesten charakterisiert$. In seinem 1799 erschienenen Werk”? unternimmt er sogar S. Gyarmathi, die mehr oder weniger unsicheren Wortvergleichungen beiseite zu lassen und die Verwandtschaft der finnisch-ugrischen Sprachen ‘‘grammatisch”, d.h. durch die Vergleichung der grammatischen Exponenten zu beweisen, L. Sacy, der das Buch gleich im Erscheinungsjahr besprochen hat, nannte es klassisch8. 2. Humboldt sieht im Persischen (d.h. im Neupersischen) den überzeugendsten Beweis dafür, daß die Einerleiheit der Sprachen, ihr genetischer Zusammenhang in der Tat in erster Linie in ihrem grammatischen System zu suchen ist°. Der Wortschatz des Persischen besteht bekanntlich zu einem beträchtlichen Teil aus arabischen Wörtern (er scheint nach G. Lazards Untersuchungen mehr arabisiert zu sein als der englische romanisiert!°, betrachtet man aber das system der Grammatik, so ist nicht zu verkennen, daß es eine indogermanische Sprache ist, die, in sich geschlossen, diese Wörter aus einer ganz anders gebauten übernommen hat!!. Nach seiner Stellung in der geschichtlichen Entwicklung der indogermanischen Gruppe stellt Humboldt das Persische neben die neulateinischen Sprachen: verglichen mit dem Lateinischen, bzw. dem Sanskrit zeigen sie alle durch eine neue

Form einen Bruch in der Kontinuität,

das Entstehen neuer, vorher nicht dagewesener Sprachen !?. Er macht auf der anderen Seite aufmerksam, wie unabhängige Entwicklung im Englischen und im Persischen in wichtigen Punkten überraschende

Ähnlichkeiten ergeben hat!3. Als Humboldt

schrieb, war

die altpersische

Keilschrift

Hälfte entziffert, das Altpersische noch nicht zu erfassen.

kaum Doch

zur hatte

Rask in seiner 1826 erschienenen Abhandlung über das Alter und die Echtheit des Zendavesta, die Humboldt in einer deutschen Übersetzung zugänglich war, die Unabhängigkeit des Avestischen vom Altindischen nachgewiesen !*. Humboldt

führte daher das Neupersische, wenn er es

als aus dem “Zend” hervorgegangen betrachtete, auf die damals allein bekannte altiranische Sprache zurück !*. An einer anderen Stelle drückt er sich umsichtiger aus: Sie die neupersische Sprache entspringt aus Sprachen,

die”uns zwar, ihrem grammatischen

Bau nach, noch nicht

hinlänglich bekannt sind, von denen aber das Zend gewiß auch des Indo-Germanischen Stammes war'®.

250

ZSIGMOND TELEGDI

3. Die Frage der Sprachverwandtschaft hat Humboldt seit dem Anfang seiner Sprachstudien beschäftigt. Er stand aber den früheren Lösungsversuchen lange kritisch gegenüber, er fand sie unzulänglich, und hielt an seiner Ansicht fest, daß es der Sprachkunde noch nicht gelungen war, sichere Kriterien zur Bestimmung der Verwandtschaft verschiedener Sprachen zu finden !7. Gleich in seiner ersten Öffentlichen Äußerung über seine Sprachforschung (1812) beklagt er, daß es noch an festen Grundsätzen, die Verwandtschaftsgrade der Sprachen zu bestimmen fehlt!8, und noch in der Abhandlung “Über den Dualis” (gelesen 26.4.1827) findet er die Frage ungelöst: “Es ist eine eigene Erscheinung, daß das Sprachstudium zu keinem andren Zwecke als zu Schlüssen auf die Verwandtschaft der Sprachen] so vielfältig benutzt worden ist, ja daß sehr viele noch jetzt den Nutzen desselben fast nur darauf zu beschränken pflegen, und daß es doch bisher noch durchaus an gehörig gesicherten Grundsätzen zur Beurtheilung der Verwandtschaft der Sprachen und des Grades derselben fehlt.” Humboldts kritische Haltung war berechtigt; mit der Erkenntnis, daß die Verwandtschaft von Sprachen vor allem durch die Übereinstimmung ihres grammatischen Baues bewiesen ist, war es noch nicht getan. Die grammatische Vergleichung von Sprachen zur Bestimmung ihrer Verwandtschaftsverhältnisse war zunächst eine Vergleichung von konkreten grammatischen

Formen,

die Forschung

stand also vor demsel-

ben Problem wie die Wortvergleichung: sie hatte prinzipiell zu entscheiden, wann die Ähnlichkeit der verglichenen Laütgebilde als Beweis ihres gemeinsamen Ursprungs gelten konnte. Erst am Ende der zwanziger Jahre, in den bahnbrechenden

Arbeiten

von Franz Bopp und Jacob Grimm findet Humboldt die Lösung des Problems. In diesen Arbeiten erst wird ihm die entscheidende Wichtigkeit der Lautgesetze, der regelmäßigen Abweichung der Laute in den sonst vergleichbaren Einheiten der betrachteten Sprachen klar?°. Zwei Sprachen (meint jetzt Humboldt) gehören zum selben Stamm, wenn in der Verschiedenheit ihrer individuellen Formen ein gemeinschaftlicher, durch die Übereinstimmung dieser als geschichtlich erwiesener “Urtypus” sichtbar wird; dazu ist es nötig, daß der grammatische Bau eine “durchgehende Analogie” zeigt und die Regelmäßigkeit der Abweichung im Laut zwischen sich sonst entsprechenden Bildungen eindeutig auf ursprüngliche Identität dieser hinweist2!. Ob Humboldt schon an die Möglichkeit gedacht hat, diesen ‘“Urtypus” zu bestimmen, ihn zu rekonstruieren, ist fraglich; der Ausdruck “Urtypus” spricht eher dagegen.

HUMBOLDT ÜBER PERSISCH

DS

Humboldt erkennt auch, daß die Sprachverwandtschaft nicht auf die Fälle beschränkt werden kann, wo — wie in den indogermanischen Sprachen alten Typs — eine Einerleiheit der grammatischen Struktur besteht. Eine Sprachform kann in eine andere übergehen, doch so, daß dabei morphologische Bildungen, wenn auch im neuen System in ihrer Funktion umgewandelt, erhalten bleiben, und die genetische Zugehörigkeit der Sprache verraten. Humboldt denkt dabei zunächst an die romanischen Sprachen und das Neugriechische??. Er warnt vor dem Irreführenden im metaphorischen Gebrauch des Ausdrucks “Verwandtschaft”, und betont, daß dieser bei Sprachuntersuchungen nur als geschichtlicher (nicht als typologischer) Zusammenhang zu nehmen ISERE 4. Humboldt hat früh, als Bopp erst am Anfang seiner Laufbahn stand, das Vielsprechende des jungen Gelehrten für die Sanskritstudien in Deutschland und die vergleichende Sprachkunde mit sicherem Blick erkannt, ihn an an einem entscheidenden Punkt tätig unterstützt?*; er

nahm auch später mit unausgesetztem Interesse und hoher Anerkennung an den sich glänzend erweiternden Entdeckungen des Jüngeren Anteil. Es hat ihn daran auch nicht gehindert, daß ihre Ansichten in großen Fragen der Linguistik weit auseinandergingen, und daß Humboldt Bopps Schranken nicht übersehen konnte. Es war Bopps tiefste Überzeugung, daß für sich bedeutungslose Laute als grammatische Exponenten nicht ursprünglich sind. “Aus den einsilbigen Wurzeln [schreibt er] gehen Nomina hervor ... durch Anfügung von

Silben, die wir nicht, ohne sie untersucht zu haben, als für

sich bedeutungslos, gleichsam als übernatürliche mystische Wesen ansehen dürfen, und denen wir nicht mit einem Glauben an ihre unerkennbare Natur entgegentreten wollen. Natürlich ist es, daß sie Bedeutung hatten, und daß der Sprachorganismus Bedeutsames mit Bedeutsamem verbinde?°.” Sprachen, in denen solche, von eigener Bedeutung entleerten Exponenten die Regel darstellen — ihm schweben die indogermanischen alten Typs vor —, setzen daher früheren Zustand voraus, “in welchem

nach seiner Ansicht einen die einzelnen Glieder in

genauem

und alles Abgeleitete

Verhältnis

zu einander

standen,

noch

durch ein sichtbares Band an das, wovon es ausgegangen, sich anschloss.” Nachdem dieser Höhepunkt der “vollendeten Einrichtung” erreicht ist, beginnt nach Bopp der Niedergang: die ursprünglich durchsichtigen Formen werden abgelegt, verstümmelt oder umgedeutet (für Bopp heißt das: mißbraucht), die Sprache hört auf durch sich verständ-

252

ZSIGMOND TELEGDI

lich zu sein. Auf diesem Weg gelangt Bopp zu der Feststellung, daß die “vollkommensten Sprachen des Altertums”, die klassischen Sprachen ebenso wie das Sanskrit, in der Gestalt; in der wir sie erst kennen lernen, die Phase ihrer Vollendung schon hinter sich gelassen haben, in

grammatischer Hinsicht (d.h. in der Bildungsweise ihrer grammatischen Formen) auf dem Rückweg befindlich sind, und das gilt noch mehr von den modernen Sprachen, in denen jene sich fortsetzen ?°. Die eigentliche Sprachforschung, da sie nach dem Begreifen des scheinbar Willkürlichen strebt, muß daher (lautet Bopps Schluß) auf den Zustand der “vollendeten Einrichtung” zurückgehen?’. Es ist bekannt, wie tiefgehend diese Vorstellung die Sprachvergleichung der “Palaogrammatiker” beherrscht hat?®. Bopp hält also die Flexionsmethode für ein Zeichen des Rückgangs. Nach Humboldt, im Gegenteil, stellt sie als die Lösung der Aufgabe, Stoff und Form des Gedankens streng zu unterscheiden und sie zugleich zu einer festen Einheit zu verknüpfen, die Vollendung der Grammatik dar ?°. Für Bopp zeigt die uns bekannte Geschichte der indogermanischen Sprachen den fortschreitenden Verfall einer geschichtlich entstandenen durchsichtig-harmonischen Einrichtung. Humboldt dagegen widmet einen Abschnitt der Kawi-Einleitung der “Betrachtung der Flexionssprachen in ihrer Fortentwicklung ?°”. Die Ursachen (führt er aus), die man dabei in Betracht ziehen muß, sind mannigfaltig, er zählt auch eine Anzahl

von

ihnen

auf, an erster Stelle aber nennt er die wachsende

Kraft des menschlichen Geistes. “Gerade seinem Fortschreiten aber entspricht es, in der steigenden Zuversicht auf die Festigkeit seiner inneren Ansicht zu sorgfältige Modificirung der Laute für überflüssig zu erachten ... Je gereifter sich der Geist fühlt, desto kühner wirkt er in eignen Verbindungen und desto zuversichtlicher wirft er die Brücken ab, welche die Sprache dem Verständnisse baut?!.” Er vergleicht die Entstehung der romanischen Sprachen an weltgeschichtlicher Bedeutung mit dem Auftreten jener, welche “die Keime unserer Bildung zu künftiger Entfaltung in sich trugen”, das heißt der klassischen Flexionssprachen °?. Humboldt

macht überhaupt auf den Fehler aufmerksam,

der darin

besteht, einen Sprachzustand nur von seiner Vergangenheit her, in Bezug auf sie zu betrachten. Nachdem er den Übergang von flexivischen Sprachen zu “formloseren” besprochen hat, fährt er fort: “Wenn ich hier von Verwirrung der Formen, Vergessenheit ihrer Bedeutung sprach, so geschah dies nur in ’

HUMBOLDT ÜBER PERSISCH

Vergleichung mit der älteren Sprache und um auf ges aufmerksam zu machen. Es versteht sich von Sprache ihre eigne Analogie hat, und in dieser eigenthümliche Consequenz ein Ganzes bildet.” zugleich mit dem Untergang der alten Sprache

253

die Art des Überganselbst, daß die neue wieder durch die ihr Nach Humboldt ist eine neue aus einem

eigenen, Einheit schaffenden Prinzip entstanden, die für sich betrachtet

werden kann und muß. Auf diese Weise nimmt er die These von der Notwendigkeit, synchronische und diachronische Sprachbetrachtung grundsätzlich zu unterscheiden, die sich später vor allem durch Saussures Wirkung allgemein durchsetzen sollte, vorweg. W. Keith Percival (1974: 380 ff.) zeigt an einem besonders lehrreichen Beispiel, wie Humboldt auch in der Praxis darauf hielt, synchronische Beschreibung und historische Erklärung zu trennen.

LITERATUR Bopp, Franz. (1827). “Rezension über die Deutsche Grammatik von Jacob Grimm. 2. Aufl. 1826.” Jahrbücher für wissenschaftliche Kritik. 1827. —, (1833). Vergleichende Grammatik des Sanskrit, Zend, Griechischen, Lateinischen, Litthauischen, Gothischen und Deutschen. Erste Abtheilung. Berlin. Farkas, Julius von. (1948). “Samuel Gyarmathı und die finnisch-ugrische Sprachvergleichung.” Nachrichten der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen. Philogisch-historische Klasse. 1948. 109-136. Humboldt, Wilhelm von. (1903-1936). Gesammelte Schriften. Ausgabe der Preußischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Hg. von Albert Leitzmann u.a. Bd. I-X VII. Berlin. Lefmann, Salomon. (1897). Franz Bopp, sein Leben und seine Wissenschaft. Nachtrag. Berlin. (Enthält den Briefwechsel zwischen Humboldt und

Bopp.) Percival, W. Keith. (1974). ‘“‘Humboldt’s Description of the Javanese Verb.” Studies in the History of Linguistics: Traditions and Paradigms. Ed. by Dell Hymes. Bloomington and London. 1974. 380-390. Rask, Rasmus Kristian. (1826). ‘Om Zendsprogets og Zendavestas Ælde of Ægthed.” Det skandinaviske Litteraturselskabs Skrifter. XXI. Rowe, John Howland. (1974). ‘Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century Grammers.” Studies in the History of Linguistics [S. oben]. 361-379. Steinthal, Heyman. (1884). Die sprachphilosophischen Werke Wilhelms von Humboldt. Hg. und erklart von —. Berlin. Timpanaro, Sebastiano. (1972). “Friedrich Schlegel e gli inizi della linguistica indoeuropea in Germania.” Critica Storica. 9. N.S. 72-105.

254

ZSIGMOND TELEGDI

ANMERKUNGEN Vorbemerkung:

Ich zitiere

Humboldt

nach

Seitenzahl.

der Akademieausgabe

mit

Band

und

be

1 VI.111-303. — Vorher hatte nur Steinthal (1884) in seinem groBangelegten Kommentar zu Humboldts sprachphilosophischen Werken umfangreiche Stücke aus der Handschrift mitgeteilt. 2 VI. 145, 244. 3 Ebd., 244. 4 VI.248. — Über den Begriff der Sprachform bei Humboldt s. namentlich seine Ausführungen in der Kawi-Einleitung VII.45-52. 5 Rowe (1974) 361. 6 Vgl. Timpanaro (1972) 78f. 7 Affinitas linguae Hungaricae cum linguis Fennicae originis grammatice demonstrata.

Göttingen. Englische Übersetzung: Grammatical Proof of the Affinity of the Hungarian Language with Languages of Finnic Origin, Translated, annotated, and introduced by V.E. Hanzeli. Amsterdam and Philadelphia. 1983, Eine Entstehungsgeschichte des Werks, die zugleich seine eingehende Analyse ist, gibt die ausgezeichnete Abhandlung von J. von Farkas (1948).

8 Farkas (1948) 132. NALS DST 10 Mélanges linguistiques offerts à Maxime Rodinson. Paris. p. 228. 11 VI. 295 Anm.

12 Ebd., 244f. SNEDd 258 Ff. 14 Rask (1826). BEVIN 2: IS bd 258; 17 Diese Ansicht wird in der Schrift “Uber Sprachverwandtschaft” (VII. 629-636), die nach Leitzmann 1812 oder 1814 niedergeschrieben wurde, ausführlich begründet.

SIT 290) EE NA TUE 20 “Übereinstimmung in concreten grammatischen Lauten ist daher allemal ein untrügliches Kennzeichen stammverwandter Sprachen. An diesem ist durch die meisterhaften Arbeiten Jacob Grimms über die germanischen Sprachen, ..., und die treffiichen eines Mitgliedes unserer Akademie, Herrn Bopp, über das Sanskrit, und die demselben verwandten Sprachen, unwiderleglich dargethan, daß das Altindische, das Griechische, Lateinische, Deutsche, Litthauische, wie alle Slavischen Sprachen nur eine große Familie ausmachen, da sich in ihnen allen die Einerleiheit einzelner Formen nachweisen lässt.” (V1.43). Vgl. ebd., 261 (die konkreten grammatischen Formen der indogermanischen Sprachen lassen sich größtenteils “nach bestimmten Gesetzen und Lautverhältnissen” auf einander zurückführen), 268. — Neben den deutschen Gelehrten wäre noch Rasmus Rask zu erwähnen gewesen, die Größe des Dänen als Komparatist ist aber Humboldt anscheinend unbekannt geblieben. 2! Vgl. VI. 76-84 (“An Essay on the best Means of ascertaining the Affinities of Oriental Languages.”’), 296-299.

22 Ebd., 254f. 23 Ebd., 9. 24 Er schrieb an Bopp am 9.2.1820 — es war sein erster Brief an ihn, der Beginn eines wissenschaftlichen Briefwechsels, der bis zu Humboldts Tod nicht abriß —, er sei überzeugt, daB es niemanden gibt, von dem man sich mehr für die Kenntnis der indischen Sprache

und

Literatur

versprechen

konnte

als von

ihm;

und

es war

Humboldt,

der

HUMBOLDT ÜBER PERSISCH

255

bewirkte, daß Bopp, nachdem dessen Anstellungsgesuch 1820 von der Universität Würzburg in ihrer Beschränktheit abgelehnt wurde, im nächsten Jahr in Berlin auf Antrag der

philosophischen Fakutät ein neu errichtetes Extraordinat für das Fach “der orientalischen Literatur und der allgemeinen Sprachkunde” erhielt. 25 Bopp (1833) 242 f. 26 Bopp (1827) col. 251-253. 27 In dem

Entwurf eines Briefs an Humboldt

(Mitte

1829) unterscheidet

Bopp die

historische Sprachforschung, “die eine Sprache durch alle ihre Zustände soweit hinaus als möglich verfolgt, und auch die Seiten-Linien, d.h. die stammverwandten Dialekte stets im Auge hat” von der “eigentlichen Erforschung der Sprache (Streben nach Begreifung)”. (Lefmann 1897: 69; vgl. ebd., 110*, 112*). 28 Osthoff und Brugmann stellen 1878 in dem von ihnen (in der Tat von Brugmann) verfaßten Manifest der Junggramatiker fest: ‘Die reconstruction der indogermanischen grundsprache war bisher immer hauptziel und mittelpunkt der gesamten vergleichenden sprachforschung.” (Morphologische Untersuchungen auf dem Gebiete der indogermanischen Sprachen. Erster Teil. Leipzig 1878. V.) 29 TV. 290-310. w ° VII. 236-241. End 230; EAN S89. 33 Ebd., 256. Vgl. “Gegen die Stammsprache erhalten daher diese Sprachen [: wie die neulateinischen, das Englische oder das Persische] den Chrakter des Unzusammenhanges und der grammatischen Dürfigkeit, der sie aber ... gar nicht in ihrer Eigenthümlichkeit trifft.” (VI. 259).

FRIDRIK THORDARSON OLD OSSETIC ACCENTUATION 1. A little less than a century ago A. Meillet advanced a theory of the Old Iranian accentuation that continues to be the basis of vivid discussions among Iranists (Meillet 1900). Meillet founded his theory upon a metrical analysis of the Gathic hymns, Iranian loanwords in Armenian and Persian data, but it was evidently meant to be valid for

preliterary Proto-Iranian as a whole and common to the forerunners of all known Iranian languages (cf. Meillet: 270 ff.). According to Meillet Proto-Iranian had developed an accentuation of the Latin type: an expiratory stress falls on the penultima if it is long but on the antepenultima if the penultima is short. The question was later debated with special reference to Sogdian by Gauthiot, who repeated Meillet’s theory in all essentials (Gauthiot 1914-23: 29 ff.; s. also Gauthiot 1918: 1 ff.). In a study published in 1925 Kurytowicz tried to show, as it seems with solid arguments, that in a number of cases the Gathic accent fell on the same syllable as in Vedic Sanskrit, i.e., although the nature of

the accent had changed from musical tone (pitch) to dynamic accent (stress), the place of the accent agreed with that of Vedic; in other words, the Aryan (and Indo-European) rule of free accent was still operative in the Gathic dialect. Similar views had been expressed by Bartholomae forty years earlier (Bartholomae 1887). The same line of thought is endorsed by Beekes in his his recent Gathic grammar (Beekes 1988: 55 ff.). Later in his life Kurytowicz renounced his theory of 1925. According to a new theory, propounded in a number of studies, preliterary Old Iranian had generalized an accentuation (stress) on the penultima (Kurytowicz 1952; 1958: 369 ff.; 1964; 1968: 194ff.; 1975). As to the question whether this system of accentuation is to be assumed for common Proto-Iranian Kurytowicz was non-committal. In 1942 Morgenstierne mentioned the possibility of Pashto retaining traces of the Vedic (Indo-Iranian) system of accentuation. He presented his views on these matters in a fuller form in a couple of studies toward the end of his life (Morgenstierne 1942: 95ff.; 1973; 1983). Both the existence of contrasting stress within the same derivational group (e.g. ’

OLD OSSETIC ACCENTUATION

vestiges

of the contrast

between

a barytone

DS

and

an

oxytone

suffix

*-aka-, and change of stress within the paradigm of a class of adjectives (sor nom. sg. masc.: saré obl. sg. masc., sard nom. sg. fem. etc. “cold” < *sarta-), as well as some isolated words, strongly support the assumption of the retention of Aryan accentuation into the period of separate Pashto development. 2. A corollary of Kurytowicz’ second theory is the assumption of neutralization of vowel quantity in open final syllables (phonological merging of *-a and *-d etc.). According to this view final syllables never carry the accent. This is supposed to be a preliterary development, common at least to the dialectal forerunners of Avestan and Old Persian. In the Gathic texts all final vowels are written long; this applies to the anaptyctic vowels as well (vadarad “weapon” etc.). This feature has been ascribed by most scholars to liturgical recitation (see Reichelt

1909: 34) and cannot be adduced as evidence either for or against Kurytowicz theory. This view is shared by Beekes (1988: 49ff.), according to whom all long final vowels were at some time shortened (as early as Gathic or later). In Late Avestan all final vowels are as a rule written long in monosyllables, short in polysyllables except -6 (Jackson 1893: 7). This orthography probably reflects linguistic facts. In the Old Persian orthography ancient (Aryan) final -a, -i, ü are followed by a, ya, va respectively (a’, iy’, uv’). As the difference between initial and medial long and short i, u is only exceptionally represented in the script, the writing of final i, u as iy, uv has little evidential weight. The Old Persian way of writing the final vowels has been interpreted as a purely graphic matter, ‘, y, v being used as matres lectionis (Kent 1952: 17ff.; Brandenstein-Mayrhofer 1964: 28ff.; and in particular Hinz 1973: 24ff.). Hoffmann, on the other hand, who has treated the whole question thoroughly in a recent study, argues in favour of a linguistic interpretation (Hoffmann 1976: 92 ff>; cf. Meillet-Benveniste 1931: 91 ff., where the arguments for a linguistic reality are examined). The retention of ancient final *-a, *-d as two distinct vowel phonemes is well attested in various East Iranian languages (Morgenstierne o.c.). In evidence of this the a-umlaut of the Pamir languages may be adduced. In Shughni -4- in an open syllable becomes -7- (after nasals -ü-) if it is not followed by a syllable containing a: dis “10” < *dasa, mid “middle” < *madya-, num “name” < *nama-, naÿjid/naÿjad “he/she came”< *niz-gat-ah/G; note also the different developments before

258

FRIDRIK THORDARSON

consonant clusters: waxt “8” < *astd, but dust “hand” < *dasta- (Morgenstierne 1975: 108 ff.; Paxalina 1983: 151 ff.; Sokolova 1967: 49 ff.). Cf. also Yazghulami dist “hand”, but mast “moon, month” < *mästä (Paxalina 1983: 112ff.; Sokolova 1967: 81ff.), Wakhi xur “donkey” < *xara-, but -xar in moë-xar “she-ass” < *xard (Paxalina 1983: 11 ff.), and Ishkashmi xur “donkey”, but var “door” < *dwarda (Paxalina 1983: 56 ff.). In Ossetic O.Ir. * and *7, *ÿ and *u have merged in i, u respectively. This stage of development is retained by Digor; in Iron i and u have further merged in # (Thordarson 1989: 460). On the other hand, *ä and *a have been retained as æ and a respectively (with some variations). In principle, final syllables in *a, *7, *ÿ have been lost. Final *a has been retained as -@ in the plural suffix -z@ (< *tä) in both Digor and Iron (the nominative). It is natural to derive the allative case suffix -me from *hamä, an (oxytone?) instrumental: all. sg. I., D. bex-me, pl. D. bexta-me, |. bæxtæ-m from bæx “horse”. In Digor we find two declensions: -æ < *-a, vs. -O < *-a(h). All nouns have been allocated to either the -@ class or the -@ class; this allocation is arbitrary, without

semantic content. In Iron the two declensions have merged in one. This development is purely morphological; the differences between the declensional classes have been abolished through a morphological process. Iron nouns in final -@ apparently go back to *-aya-: zerde “heart” < *zrdaya-, arfe “greetings, benediction” < *äfraya-, ærtæ “three” < Oraya-, beste “place, country, village” < *upastaya-; sede “100” is not a genuine Iron word; the -@ of duuæ “two” (D. duuæ) has probably been retained for morphological reasons (to avoid a monosyllable), or in analogy with ærtæ “three”. I. læxtæ, D. lixste “prayer” is a plural of /eyz ‘‘smooth (words)” > “prayers”. Other Iron words in final -@ seem to be loanwords, primarily borrowed from Kabardian. The development of *-aya- > -æ is apparently later than the Iron loss of -@ < *-G as a morphological marker. In monosyllables *-4 and *-d are kept distinct: ma the prohibitive particle, n@ the functionally unmarked negation; me, ne, ie/æi, ne, ue, s@ the enclitic forms of the personal pronouns (the proclitic forms of the possessive pronouns) (see Thordarson 1989: 459 ff., where more data will be found). It is thus clear that Kurytowicz’ view that quantity as a distinctive feature of final vowels has been neutralized cannot be upheld as far as Ossetic, Pashto and the Pamir languages are concerned. At least in the case of these languages the arguments against the possibility of stressed final vowels are not valid.

OLD OSSETIC ACCENTUATION

3. A great deal of research

259

still needs to be done on the prosodic

features of stress, pitch and juncture in Ossetic.

The most

thorough

treatment of the subject is that of Abaev 1939 (reprinted in Abaev 1949: 529 ff!.). The accent is a (weak) expiratory stress. Word accent is subordinate to phrase accent. The flow of speech is divided into prosodic units, where the main stress falls on a single syllable; a secondary stress may fall on other syllables of the same unit. In principle, the first syllable of the unit is stressed if the vowel of that syllable is strong; if the vowel of the first syllable is weak, the second syllable is stressed. In Digor the stress may be retracted to a syllable further back if the preceding syllables have weak vowels. Recent Russian loanwords as a rule keep the accent of the donor language. Proper names are accentuated on the second syllable. In Iron the following vowels are strong (Russ. sil‘nye): [| ue o a/; fi æ/ are weak (Russ. s/abye) vowels”. In indigenous words /e/ is found only as the result of vowel contraction. In Digor [ie o a/ are strong, /æ i u/ weak vowels. This prosodic pattern is clearly an innovation, peculiar to Ossetic. It need not be old. But as both dialects follow the same basic pattern, it is

probably earlier than the dialect split. It is natural to ascribe this innovation to influence from the neighbouring languages. As regards prosodic features Ossetic seems to belong to a linguistic area comprising the adjacent North East (Nakh) and South Caucasian languages (cf. Deeters 1963: 30 ff.). 4. The question arises if there are any traces of an earlier accentuation pattern detectable in the modern language, e.g. in the form of umlaut or shortening or syncope of unstressed vowels. I have hinted at these questions in earlier studies (Thordarson 1986a, b), but some additional remarks may not be out of place. As a matter of fact, there exist several modes of word formation (suffixes, compound words) which involve vowel shift or vowel syncope in the preceding syllable. It is natural to explain these changes as due to stress. A few of these will be examined in the following. It goes without saying that accentuation features found to be the most appropriate explanation of vowel shift do not necessarily reflect the Indo-Iranian (or older) accentuation. Ossetic (or its forerunner) may easily have produced accent rules of its own. We must bear in mind that OsseticAlanic has déveloped outside the mainstream of the Iranian languages. This isolation has been favourable both to conservatism and to innovations that it does not share with its sister languages.

260

FRIDRIK THORDARSON

The following exposition is not meant to be exhaustive, and in most cases a more detailed treatment of the facts will be needed. For the sake of brevity references to other languages have been limited to a mini+ mum.

5. Vowel shift a > æ: (a). The plural suffix -z@ entails weakening (shortening) of a > æ in the preceding syllable: mary “bird”: mærytæ, ars “bear”: ærsitæ/ærsitæ (with a svarabhakti vowel), bælas/bælasæ “tree”: belest@, æydau “custom”: @ydeutte (with gemination of ¢ after a sonant), xæzar/xæzaræ “house”: x@zertte, fendag “way”: fendegte (see the list in Abaev 1964: 12ff.; Isaev 1966: 34 ff.). There are some exceptions to this rule, but they can easily be explained as due to paradigmatic pressure: bon “day; capability”: bontæ. Derivatives in -on (< *-äna-) frequently retain their vowel before the plural ending: x@zar-on-te “inmates of the house”, æfsætt-on-tæ “warriors” (@fsad “army”), max-on-te “our people”. There is also some fluctuation (dialectal, stylistic variation?): cuanon/cauæinon “hunter”: I. cuanættæ (MF), cuanonte (NK 184), D. cauæinontæ (MF). Family (tribal) names in -on (partly also in -an) show -ontæ (-ante): Cærasontæ (in the Os-Beyatir cycle of legends), Dare3antæ (the Amiran epic cycle), Remon(a)te, Delimonte/Deliumonte “subterranian spirits, goblins”, also Pisilmontæ/Pusulmontæ “the Moslems’, Ciristonte/Kiristonte “the Christians” ;— but Jrette/Irentte “the

(East) Ossetes”, Digurættæ/Digorænttæ “the Digors”, Kesgette “the Kabardians”. Final -a is retained: ærra-tæ (ærra ‘mad, violent”), cugga/coga-t@ “Cherkeska” (a loanword), magusa/magosa-tæ “lazybones”, mazura/ ma3ora-tæ “silent” (= ma + 3rd p. sg. subj.: “he shall not work/talk” used as nouns, cf. Axvlediani 1963: 121). In the suffixes -@g, -ig/ug the vowel is lost before the plural ending: fisseg/finseg “writer”: fiszite/finsgut@, ueüg/ueiug “giant”: ueiguite/ ueigute.

5

l.i=D.e,I.u=D. o are not affected: xid/xed-tæ “bridge”, sug/sogte “fire-wood”; likewise I. i=D. r: æfsin/æfsinæ “mistress of the house”: æfsintæ. As a rule nouns containing on, om < än, äm change their vowel to en, æm before the plural ending (in I. with assimilation of n to the following -t-): don “water, river”: dette/dentta, nom “name”: nemtte (D. non: nentte), kuiroi/kuroine “mill” (< *kurän-ya): kuirette/ kurentte.

OLD OSSETIC ACCENTUATION

261

The narrowing of 4 > o before nasals is not earlier than the 14th-15th centuries; in the mediaeval Alanic documents ancient än is still written an (Thordarson 1989: 460). This gives us a terminus ante quem for the weakening (shortening) of a > æ (à > à). Besides Ossetic, -1- is found in Sogdian and Yaghnobi as a plural marker. There is general agreement that it goes back to Aryan (IE) *-{4, a derivative suffix forming abstracts, frequently with the meaning collectivity, complexity (Wackernagel-Debrunner 1954: 616ff.). In Vedic, derivatives in -14- are as a rule accented on the syllable before the suffix: devara- “divinity”, janata- “assemblage of people”; occasionally they keep the accent of the primary word: aviratä- “want of sons” (RV avira-), In Greek derivatives in -tä- are largely oxytone: geneté

“birth, origin”, aüte “cry”, biote “life”. Beekes (1988: 60, 67) argues, on the basis of graphical phenomena, for an Avestan accent agreeing with the Greek. According to Kurytowicz’ theories of the Indo-European accent derivatives in *-td@ were originally oxytone (Kurytowicz 1958: 66ff.; 1935: 199 and 213ff.). If this holds good—a question which cannot be decided here—it is permissible to suggest that the Old Iranian ancestor of Ossetic (and Avestan?), in contrast to Old IndoAryan, retained the Indo-European accentuation of *-td- well into Alanic times. (b). The suffix of the ordinal numbers -@m (< *-ama-) causes vowel weakening in the preceding syllable: æstæm “eighth”: ast, faræstæm “ninth”: farast, fenzem “fifth”: fonz. This indicates accentuation of the ancient penultima. The corresponding Vedic ordinals are oxytone: saptamä- ‘“‘seventh”’ etc., and this is no doubt the original accentuation

(the starting point a thematization of *septem, *dek’em). Accordingly an accent shift from the ultima to the penultima has taken place at some stage of development. The extended suffix -æimag (D., in part also I.) < *-mayäka- (Sogd. -myk) has the same effects as the simple suffix: fenzaimag “fifth” etc. (c). -on < *-äna- is found in numerous denominative and (more rarely) verbal nouns. As an adjectival suffix it has become extremely productive in the modern language and is used for forming adjectives from Russian loanwords: demokraton Russ. “demokraticeskij’. In verbal nouns (participles) it seems not to affect the vowel of the preceding syllable: uarzon “beloved” (uarzin “to love”), baron “forgiving, kindhearted” (barin “to forgive’) etc. As a denominative suffix it causes vowel weakening in a number of words which apparently belong to ancient or traditional vocabulary:

262

FRIDRIK THORDARSON

D. æsson

“a Balkar,

Balkarian”:

Asi/Assi ‘“Balkaria,

the Balkars”,

Nerton ‘‘belonging to, characteristic of the Narts; wonderful”: Nart “a race

of mythological

heroes”,

bælccon

“traveller”’:

balc/balci “travel,

expedition”, reston “right”: rast “straight, honest”, xæxxon/xuænxon “mountain” (adj.): xox/xonx (< *xwanx-) “mountain” (subst.), kælmon “of a snake’:

kalm

‘‘snake”.

But also:

uaton

“ill, bedridden”:

uat

“bed”, fendagon “traveller”’: fændag “way”, maxon “our”: max “we”, simaxon/sumaxon “your”: simax/sumax “you”, xæzaron ‘‘domestic”: xæ3ar/xæzaræ “house, home”, arvon “heavenly”: arv “heaven”, but also ærvon. Syncope is found in Kesgon “(a) Kabardian”: Keseg “Kabarda, the Kabardians”, but Mæggælon “(an) Ingush”: Maggel “(the country of) the Ingush”. In the Vedic participles in -ana- the accent is either final or initial (Wackernagel-Debrunner 1954: 275 ff.). In Ossetic, verbal nouns in -on are rare (Abaev 1964: 50; Axvlediani 1963: 136ff.), but as far as they go they suggest initial stress. In nominal derivatives the Vedic accent varies: samänd- “common”: samd-, but takavana- “rapid” (probably a proper name): taku-, etc. The Ossetic data are equivocal, but seem to show accentuation of the suffix (the penultima). Connections outside Aryan are uncertain (Wackernagel-Debrunner 1954: 277 ff.). (d). The I. suffix -ag is the equivalent of two different D. suffixes: -ag < *-Gka- and -age < *-äkä-. The latter suffix forms verbal nouns denoting a permanent characteristic: uaiag/uaiage “quick, a racer”: uaiin “to run”, nuazag/niuazage “drunkard”: nuazin “to drink”, tersag/tersage ‘‘coward”’: tersin “to fear”, etc. It seems not to affect the vowel of the preceding syllable. I., D. -ag is equivocal as to its influence on the preceding vocalism. Its forms adjectives with a wide range of meanings (Axvlediani 1963: 101 ff., 135ff.; Abaev 1964: 85ff.). In a great number of words that relate to traditional culture or institutions and that it is natural to ascribe to the ancient layers of the vocabulary,vowel shift takes place: Thus from kusart/kosart “slaughter of an animal in honour of a guest” we have kuserttag/koserttag “sacrificial animal” (regarding the meaning and the etymology see Benveniste 1959: 37 ff.). Other examples: I. amettag “victim, prey” < *amerttag: amarin (pret. part. amard) “to kill”. — baizettag ““posterity” from baizad, pret. part. of bazaiin/izaiun “to remain”. — zættag “auf das Gebären sich beziehend, die gebären soll” (MF), e.g. ficcag zettag “relating to the first calving

OLD OSSETIC ACCENTUATION

263

of the cow”, from zad, pret. part. of zaiin/zaiun “to give birth to”. — ferssag “on the side, strange, foreign”: fars “side”. — tessag “dangerous”: tas “fear”, tasin “to stoop, bend”’; but tasag/tasage@ “flexible”. On the other hand we have: artag “fuel”: art “fire”, I. xoxag adj. of xox “mountain”, but D. xuænxag: xonx (but also xonxag), I. moiag “bridegroom”: moi/moinæ “‘husband’’, and numerous others. A suffix *-yaka- is seen in bairag “foal”: *bär- “to ride on horseback”, I. doinag adj. of don “water, river”, kæroinag “at the end, distant”: kæron “end”, xæzairag “domestic”: x@zar/x@zare “house”, gailag ‘‘calf”: gal “bull” (a loanword), etc., without vowel shift. In contradistinction

to Ossetic, Vedic nouns

in -dka- are rare. The

accent is variable: pinäka- “staff”, $yämäka- “a kind of millet”, pavaka“pure”, cf. also asmakam, yusmakam, pers. pron. Ist and 2nd p. gen. pl., so that a direct comparison is hardly possible. (e). A suffix -c-, -3- < *-ti forms abstracts from verbal stems. As a rule a in the presuffixal syllable shifts to æ: bærc/bærcæ ““measure”: barin “‘to measure”, zæic/zæicæ “‘posterity”: zaiin “to give birth to”, nimec/nimece “number, recckoning”: nimaiin “to count”, I. ær3- in abl. sg. erza@i “by nature”: I. arin “to give birth to”. Simplicia in -ti- are mostly oxytone in the RV (Wackernagel-Debrunner 1954: 631 ff.), and this is no doubt the original accentuation. From the D. forms it appears that at some stage of development the derivatives in -c/3(i) have been transferred to the @-(< *a-) declension (cf. Thordarson 1989: 459). (f). -en < *-ana- forms verbal nouns with the meaning “capability, destination, instrument’’. It is homonymous, and probably etymologically identical, with the dative ending. It does not affect a preceding a. In Vedic deverbative abstracts in -ana- as a rule have the accent on the stem. Agent nouns and adjectives are only exceptionally accentuated on the penultima. (g). -æg < *-aka- forms deverbative nouns, mostly present participles. As a rule it does not cause vowel schift in the preceding syllable; note however cerdeg “agile” from card “living” (pret. part. of cærin “to-live?s Vedic adjectives in -aka- either keep the accent of the primary word or

accentuate

the

ultima;

diminutives

are

oxytone

(Lindner

1878:

129 ff.): 6. The facts desribed above cannot be explained within the framework of modern Ossetic prosody. The most adequate explanation is to

264

FRIDRIK THORDARSON

assume that the vowel shift (shortening) a > æ was caused by a dynamic stress on the immediately following syllable. If this interpretation is correct, it bears witness to a prosodic system of free accent in some earlier phase of the history of the language (earlier than the narrowing of dn, am, cf. supra 5a). The evidence indicates dynamic stress either on the ultima, the penultima or the antepenultima (or any syllable before the antepenultima). In (a) and (e) the stress fell on the ultima, in (b) and probably also in (c) and (d) on the penultima, in (f) and (g) on a syllable preceding the penultima (antepenultima?). The accent theory of Meillet and Gauthiot is not contradicted by (c), (d), (f) and (g) but is inconsistent with (a), (b) and (e). The Old Ossetic accent rules as they have been interpreted here are not compatible with Kurytowicz’ views on

the Old

Iranian

accent,

nor

is the retention

of *-@ as -@.

The

agreement with Old Indo-Aryan is incomplete. The final accent of (a) disagrees with Vedic but is in agreement with other IE languages and possibly Avestan. The accentuation of (b) is clearly an Ossetic innovation. The evidence of (c) and (d) is ambiguous. The presuffixal accentuation of (f) and (g) does not contradict Vedic. The final accent of (e) agrees with Vedic, but the suffix is unproductive, and the data therefore of limited range. In these comments I have confined myself to only some of the Ossetic derivative suffixes. Lack of space does not permit me to treat other suffixes or types of word-formation. The nominal compounds, where vowel weakening in the first member is commön, call especially for a closer investigation. But that will have to wait till a later study.

7. In previous studies I have tried to explain certain Ossetic nominal forms in -g/gæ by assuming an oxytone suffix *-aka and a syncope of the pretonic vowel (Thordarson 1986a: 279; 1986b: 504ff.). Thus I derived the gerund in -g@ from the oxytone instrumental of a verbal noun in *-aka- (on the Iranian verbal nouns in *-aka- s. Benveniste 1935: 111). In the same way I explained ¢izg/kizge “girl” and some other nouns, where we seemingly have a suffix *-k (*-ka) (so Axvlediani

1963: 112), as deriving from *kiz-akd etc. It is doubtful if a suffix *-ka(*-kä) was still productive in mediaeval Alanic and could be used for forming derivatives from Turkic loanwords. To this it will possibly be objected that the syncope might quite as well have been brought about by stress on the antepenultima: *kdnaka > kenge, *kiz-aka > kizgæ. This would agree with Meillet’s and Gauthiot’s theory, but not with Kurytowicz’ views (presuming that r

OLD OSSETIC ACCENTUATION

265

Alanic [Old Ossetic] still retained traces of the Aryan accentuation). But this explanation cannot be applied to the cases listed in 5 (a)-(g). We would thus have to assume two (chronologically) different stages in the development of the prehistoric Ossetic accentuation.

NOTES ! Originally published in /z osetinskogo eposa. Moscow etc. 1939. —See also Abaev 1964: 10ff.; H.W. Bailey, “L’accento in osseto digoron”, in Richerche linguistiche, Rome 1950, pp. 58 ff.; I. Gershevitch, “Iranian notes”, in Transactions of the Philological Society 1948, pp. 61 ff.; Isaev 1966: 26 ff.; Axvlediani 1963: 49 ff.; Thordarson 1989: 466. ? I retain the English terms of Abaev 1964. The duration of the strong vowels is probably longer than that of the weak ones (When nothing special is said, either Iron is meant or the dialect forms are identical. Where the oblique stroke (/) is used, the Iron form is placed before, the Digor form after the stroke. For the sake of uniformity geminate stops are consequently written ir etc., even where this disagrees with the conventional orthography.)

ABBREVIATIONS D = Digor; I = Iron; MF = Vs. F. Miller: Osetinsko-russko-nemeckij slovar’. Pod redakciej 1 depolnenijami A.A. Frejmana. I-III. Leningrad 1927-34. (Reimpression The Hague etc. 1972.); NK = Narti kad3ite. Seuziqeu 1946.

REFERENCES Abaev, V.I. 1949: Osetinskij jazyk ifol’klor. I. Moscow etc. —, 1964. A grammatical sketch of Ossetic. Tr. Steven P. Hill. Bloomington, Indiana. Axvlediani, G.S. (red.) 1963: Grammatika osetinskogo jazyka. I. Ordzhonikidze. Bartholomae, Chr. 1887: Arische Forschungen. III. Halle. Beekes, R.S.P. 1988: A grammar of Gatha Avestan. Leiden etc. Benveniste, E. 1935: Les infinitifs avestiques. Paris. | —, 1959: Etudes sur la langue osséte. (Collection linguistique. LX.) Paris. Brandenstein, W. and Mayrhofer, M. 1964: Handbuch des Altpersischen. Wies-

baden. Deeters, G. 1963: Die kaukasischen Sprachen, in Armenisch und kaukasische Sprachen (Handbuch der Orientalistik, Abt. I, B. 7), pp. | ff. Leiden etc. Gauthiot, R. 1914-23: Essai de grammaire sogdienne. Pt. 1. Paris. —, 1918: “De l’accent d’intensité iranien”, in Mémoires de la Société de linguistique de Paris 20, pp. | ff. Hinz, W. 1973: Neue Wege im Altpersischen. (Gôttinger Orientforschungen, R. III, B. 1.) Wiesbaden.

266

FRIDRIK THORDARSON

Hoffmann, K. 1976: “Zur altpersischen Schrift”, in Aufsätze zur Indoiranistik. IT, pp. 620 ff. Wiesbaden. Isaev, M.I. 1966: Digorskij dialekt osetinskogo jazyka. Moscow. Jackson, A.V.W. 1892: An Avesta grammar. DATE (reimpression Darmstadt 1968). Kent, R.G. 1952: Old Persian. (American Oriental Series, vol. 33.) New Haven, Connecticut. Kurytowicz, J. 1925: Traces de la place du ton en Gathique. Paris. —, 1935: Etudes indoeuropéennes. I. Krakau. —, 1952: Metrik und Sprachgeschichte. (Prace jezykoznawcze. 83.) Wroctaw etc. —, 1958: L'accentuation des langues indo-européennes. 2° éd. (Prace jezykoznawcze. 17.) Wroctaw etc. —, 1964: “L’accentuation en vieil iranien”, in Indo-Iranica. Mélanges présentés à Georg Morgienstierne à l'occasion de son soixante-dixième anniversaire, pp. 103 ff. Wiesbaden. —, Indogermanische Grammatik. II. Akzent. Ablaut. (Indogermanische Bibliothek. R. I.) Heidelberg. —, 1975: “L’accent du mot en v. -iranien”, in Monumentum H.S. Nyberg I (Acta Iranica 4), Téhéran-Liège, pp. 499 ff. Lindner, B. 1878: Altindische Nominalbildung. Jena. Meillet, A. 1900: “La déclinaison et l’accent d’intensite en perse”, in Journal asiatique, NS, XV, pp. 251 ff. Paris. —, and Benveniste, E. 1931: Grammaire du vieux perse. (Collection linguistique. XXXIV.) Paris. Morgenstierne, G. 1942: ‘“Archaisms and innovations in Pashto morphology”, in Norsk tidsskrift for sprogvidenskap XII, pp. 88 ff. Oslo. —, Morgenstierne 1973: “Final -a and -4”, in /rano-Dardica (Beiträge zur Iranistik, B. 5), pp. 108ff. Wiesbaden. —, 1983: “Bemerkungen zum Wort-Akzent in den Gathas und im Paschto”, Münchener Studien zur Sprachwissenschaft 42, pp. 167 ff. München. Paxaiina T.N. 1983: Issledovanie po sravitel’no-istoriceskoj fonetike pamirskix Jazykov. Moscow. Reichelt, H. 1909: Awestisches Elementarbuch. (Indogermanische Bibliothek, R.

I, B. 5.) Heidelberg. Sokolova, V.S. 1967: Geneticeskie otnosenija jazguljamskogo jazyka i Sugnanskoj Jazykovoj gruppy. Leningrad. Thordarson F. 1986a: “An Ossetic miscellany. Lexical marginalia”, in Kalyäanamitraraganam. Essays in honour of Nils Simonsson, pp. 277 ff. Oslo. —, 1986b: “Ossetisch uæxsk/usgæ ‘Schulter’”, in Studia Grammatica Iranica. Festschrift für Helmut Humbach. (Münchener Studien zur Sprachwissenschaft, Beiheft 13, NF), pp. 499 ff. Munich.

—, 1989: Ossetic, in Compendium Linguarum Iranicarum. Wiesbaden. Wackernagel,

J. and

Debrunner,

Nominalsuffixe. Göttingen.

A.

1954:

Altindische

Grammatik.

II,2: Die

F. VAHMAN AND G.S. ASATRIAN GLEANINGS

FROM

ZAZA VOCABULARY To Professor Yarshater in admiration and as a token of our gratitude for his valuable contributions to the study of Iranian dialects.

Zaza is one of the North West Iranian dialects spoken by a small group of people inhabiting Dersim (present Tunjeli) in the far west of Upper Armenia (Barjr Hayk‘), now in modern Turkey, in the territory between the two branches of the Euphrates: Erzinjan (Arm. Erznka) in the north, and Murad-su (Arm. Aracani) - in the south. Zäzä is spoken also in Bingöl, Mus, in the province of Bitlis, in the environs of Diyarbekir, in Siwerek, and in the other parts of Eastern Anatolia. The denomination Zäzä must be considered as an exoethnonym due to the fact that the language of this people is rich with sibiliants and affricates. They are called dimik or zaza-k'rder (i.e. the Zaza-Kurds) by the Armenians. The approximate number of Zazäs can be estimated to be around half a million. The Zäzäs are probably a reminant of old Daylamite population immigrated from the high-land of Gilan - Dailam in the X-XII centuries. This historical fact is reflected in their self-denomination damii or dimla (< *délmik i.e. belonging to Delam), attested also in the Armenian tradition. The Zaza language is closely related to Talısı, Harzanı, Gilaki and Samnani (see in detail with comprehensive literature Asatrian, 1986, 159-161, Asatrian-Gevorgian, 499-501.). Although having some very interesting linguistic features, nevertheless this dialect has not yet received due attention by the specialists in Iranian dialectology. Suffice it to say that after the publication of dialect materials, collected by O. Mann in the first decades of this century (see Hadank), no worthwhile work on Zaza has been published (see Asatrian-Gevorgian, 499, n. 3). Only very recently, in 1987, appeared in Uppsala, Sweden, a ZazaTurkish vocabulary (see Malmisanic). The reason can possibly be explained bythe difficulties involved in acquiring authentic linguistic data on Zaza. The main part of the region inhabited by the Zazas, as

268

F. VAHMAN AND G.S. ASATRIAN

well as almost the whole part of the Eastern Turkey, is not easily accessible to investigators. This situation encouraged us to collect in the autumn of 1988, from Zäzä speaking refugees living in Denmark some dialect materials, of which a short sketch on the vocabulary of the language is presented in this article. Our main informants were Zahra Saglamak, 60-65 years old (from Erzinjan, village of Qilighaya), Najiya Balcik 60-65 years old from Erzinjan, village of Guyuk-koy), Husayn Orhan, 25 years old (from Dersim, village of Mosurvan). Our materials show clearly that unlike other West Iranian dialects, Zäzä (at least the Northern dialects - Erzinjan, Dersim), has a series of affricates:

voiced

dental

affricate J (= -dz-, as in Arm.

à), voiceless

dental affricate c (= Arm. 5) and aspirated voiceless dental affricate c’ (= -ts-, as in Arm. y). These are developed mainly from New West Iranian mediopalatal affricates j and ¢. Besides, Zaza has a mediopalatal surd affricate 6 (= -t5-, as in Arm. y, Kurmanji é). In the explanation of these phonetical developments Armenian influence can not be excluded. It must also be noticed that in Zaza, as far as we can judge from our materials, the common New West Iranian spirant § mainly results in s. In vocalism the following considerations should be made: short a is usually palatal à; in many cases a is simply a reduced form of short i or

a.

ador “fire”. (cf. also Lerch, 191; Hadank,

147; Malmisanic,

18), +

vyasano “fire burns, is inflamed’. Here also Kd. agir “id”. < *aïr < *äyir< *adur: -g- because of hiatus (see Christensen-Barr, 215,

§ 17,3)! amnan

*hamina-,

“summer”

cf. Av.

(cf. Hadank,

hamina,

Sogd.

147; Malmisanic,

"myny/ämeine/,

20). From

Pastö

manai,

Olr.

MP

hamin, Kd. havin (see Asatrian 1986, 169; Vahman-Asatrian, 83): not from Arm. amarn (Hadank, ibid.). aray “mill”. < Olr. *ärOra-, cf. Maima’l ar, NP äs(yab), Kd. ds etc. idée asan “iron” (cf. Hadank,

148, 211; Malmisanic,

211); cf. Kd. äsin,

NP ähan etc. (etymology see Bailey, 486-487). ask’ik’ “girl, maiden”, cf. also aksig “Frau”

(Hadank,

149), aksag,

GLEANINGS FROM ZAZA

269

“woman, lady” (Malmisanic, 101). From Arm. dial. ayc'ig, ac'yig (Old. Arm. alij) “id.”. Also borrowed from Arm. the Kd. forms äy/xdi, ay/xci(k) “id.”. (JJ, 12), éksig (Syria) “female deer” (see in detail Asatrian

1986, 161-162).

asme/a “moon”, cf. also äsmye (Lerch, 192), asma, asme (Hadank, 149; Malmisanic, 25). Talisi ovsim, Harzanı ösma < Olr. *uxsya(waxsa-?), mäh-ka-, cf. Mid. Pers. ayism (also Psalter) (see in detail with literature Vahman-Asatrian, 115). astok “bone”, Kd. hastu/t, NP ustuxan. asma ‘‘grape”. auras “hare, rabbit”, cf. also ärgös (Lerch, 192), awres, hargüs (Malmisanic, 110). NP xargüs, KD. K'irvrusk. avalik “little broom”, az naka ~ k’an “I am sweeping now with a broom.” From Arm. dial. avil, avel, avalik “id.”. baqa also baga (Malmisanic, 34) “frog”. Kd bag, NP qurbdya/e anomatopoetic word; but cf. Täli$i vazak, varzak, guzga NP vazay; < Mir. *vazak/g, cf. Arm. p.n. Vazgen < Mir. *vazagen lit. “like a frog”. bar “yoke”. NP, Kd. bar “burden”. barviS “‘to weep, cry, lament”, also barmayis (Malmisanic, 31), a Jonakä barvanä “the girl weeps, cries”, /äyik barvanö “the boy weeps”, layik barbä (Erzinjan), barva (Dersim) “the boy cried”. Cf. also barmannan Pres. ind. 1. sg., barmä imperf. (Lerch, 209; Hadank, 111). From Olr. *bram-, cf. Av. bram-, MParth. brm’d, Olnd. bhramati (see in more detail Bailey, 316). Unlike Kurdish the development of intervocalic -m- > -v- (attested in bervis) in Zaza is very rare (see VahmanAsatrian, 83 s.v. dvedan). : bauran ‘‘dove” (cf. Hadank, 212), also bawrän (Malmisanic, 38). There is only one cognate of this word in Iranian, attested in Ossetic: belon ‘‘domestic dove”; outside Iranian - in Lithuanian: balañdis ““dove” (see Abaev, 249). Cf. also in Zaza FORer ‘‘taube” (Lerch, 197); in Kd. ee NP kabütar. baza “arm”, cf., also bazo/ü (Hadank, 219), bazak (Malmisanic, 32). bécak(a) ‘a finger”, cf. becaka (Malmisanic, 39). backa ‘‘a sort of dish made of flour and butter, with yoghurt and == ptA

garlic added”. bar ‘wood, forest” also bar, barr (Malmisanic, 46). From Arm. bor? bask (Erzinjan) “curled hair” also baska (Malmisanic, 46). Kd. bisk “id.” It seems that this word has nothing to do with Turkish puskul, rather it can be compared with Av. pusä-, Parth. pwsg, Arm. (< Ir.) psak (JJ, 51; Rossi, 33).

270

F. VAHMAN AND G.S. ASATRIAN

baZi ‘‘eye lash”. Kd. bizang, Baxtıarı mereZang. boy “odour, smell”, also bo, boy (Hadank, 212), boya randaka “it's a

nice odour’. NP böy. < Olr. *bauda-. But in Kd. dialects for “smell,

odour” only bi(h)n < *baud-na- is attested. buri “eye brow”, cf. also barwa (Hadank, 212), Kd. biru, NP abrü.

c/jam “river”, camrä dua sond “the water flows in the river”; cf. also cam “id.” (Malmisanic, 65). Kd. é/éam “id.” < Olr. *cam- “run”? cf. NP éamidan ‘to stride proudly”, MParth. ëm- “to run”, ëmg “course”, Arm. (< Ir.) cem-el “to walk” etc. c’ädar “tent”. Turk.Pers. Cadur (see Vahman-Asatrian, 78). c’ayäl “jackal”. NP sayal, Talisi sa, Sagol, Saqul < Olnd. srgäla(KEWA III, 368). car “front,

forehead”,

c’äara ma p’äakö “I am

innocent”

(lit. “My

forehead is clean”), cf. also Car, cära/e “Stirn” (Hadank, 213). c’ak’am ‘a kind of big tree: oak, beach, hornbeam’”, also marx. c’ank “chin”, cf. also Ganga “Kinn” (Hadank, 213). NP Cana “id.”. c’aut/t” “crooked” dar c'u/t'a “the tree is crooked”, cf. also out “krumm” (Hadank, 283), cot, éawt, (Malmisanic, 67, 74). Kd. ¢ift “aN Ce clock? c’alä “lamp, candel’’, also card, Carax (Hadank, 283; Malmisanic, 71). NP Giray, Arm. (< Ir.) érag, Turk. (< Arm.) çirak. calm “snot, mucus of the nose’’., also calm ““sümük’” (Malmisanic,

68). INP

ride

c’am “eye”, c'ama ma “my eye”, da c'am “two eyes”, c’ama $à “black eye”; cf. also cam ““ Auge”, came “Augen” (Hadank, 283; also Malmisa-

nic, 68). Kd. é/éav, NP éasm < Olr. *éasman-.

|

cicag ‘flower’, cf. also Ciéage (Malmisanic, 72). From Turk. gigek. éana, Canak’, ¢ayna, éénak (Erzinjan, Dersim), k’aynak’ (Siwerek) “girl, maiden”. Av. Kainyä-, kaint-, Mir. (from Turfan) knyg, MP kanik, kaniéak (NP kaniz), Paz. kanik. (Cf. also Hadank 159, 290-291). té “house”, cf. also kaya, ke, kéya (Hadank, 290), ¢é, kaya (Malmisanic, 67, 182). Semnäni ki’a, Talisi ka, in Pamir dialects did, éod, éed

“id.” < Olr. *kata-(ka-) (Morgenstierne, 96, 109). éé-bar “door”. From ce (>) and bar “door” (Hadank, 280) < *dwar-; or directly from Olr. *kata- dwara-? Cros ‘beam, roof-beam” = Turk. mertek (< Arm. mardak), also Kd. (Kurmanji) mart'ak. Corang “‘ceiling”’. ¢osma “quarter, part of a town, village”, also Cérs/sma “etraf, çevre, yore, civar” (Malmisanic, 74) éalka, ¢/jalga “chicken, young bird”.

GLEANINGS FROM ZAZA

DA

dal, obl. dala “branch of tree, twig”. From Arm. dial *dal? cf. dal-ar,

“grün, frisch, das Grün” (cf. Hübschmann, 438). där “tree, wood; fuel”. NP dar.

dauras ‘‘cradle”. darg “height of a man; length”, also darg, dark “long, tall” (Hadank,

284, 363; Malmisanic, 85). Av. darag/ya- “long”, Ossetic dary etc. < Olr. *darga-. dargö ‘long, tall’ from darg (q.v.). da(y) “mother”, daya ma “my mother”, also dayke (Lerch, 202), day (Malmisanic, 78). Kd. dé, di, dak “‘id.”’, NP daya “nurse” < Olr. *da“nurse” (see in detail Vahman-Asatrian, 80 s.v. dä). Zaza dödi “mother” must not be compared with above mentioned word (Hadank, 284): it is rather a baby-word (> Vahman-Asatrian, 84, s.v. didi.). daZa ‘pain, suffering’, ~ k’aut zara ma “I have pain in my stomach”, lit. “pain fell into my belly”. Here also Kd. Zan “id”? désték “thin thread”. NP dastak ‘‘spindle”. déw, obl. déwa “village”. NP dih, Baxtiari deh (see Vahman-Asatrian,

84). In Kd. this word occurs only in South dialects, in the North (Kurmanji) village is expressed mostly by gund: gunda ma “our village”. doma “tail of a sheep’. Kd. dü(v), NP dum(b) (see in detail Vahman-Asatrian,

83, s.v. dawiin). dömön “child”, also döman (Malmisanic, 96). diidan “tooth’”. NP dandan, Kd. diran. düwär “wall”, naka ~ razinö “the wall now is ruined”. NP diwar.

dyö “prayer”. Ar. Pers. du'ä (see Vahman-Asatrian, 80, s.v. dahà). fak “mouth” (also Hadank, 213, Malmisanic, 114). Ar. fakk. faraq “plate, cup, goblet” (also Hadank, 285. Kd. firdg (JJ, 290). Ar. firay. gap’a ‘“‘cheek”’ (see in detail Hadank, 214). gawa “‘green”’. géZi “broom with a handle”. Kd. gézi. galéz ‘‘Spittle”. gard (Siwerek), gars (Erzinjan, Dersim) “great, big”, cf. hömäy gardo = Kd. xwade mazina “God is great”. göjag (Erzinjan) “button”, also göjaga (Malmisanic, 131). Borrowed from Arm. dial. (Western) gojag “‘id.”, classical Arm. koëak. göm ‘‘cattle shed’, also göma (Malmisanic, 132). Kd. gov, gu/w < Arm. gom “‘cow-shed” (Asatrian 1986, 163). gos “ear”, also gos (Hadank, 286). NP g0$, but Kd. guh with -h < -*$- (*gausa-).

272

F. VAHMAN AND G.S. ASATRIAN

gosaré “ear-ring’”. NP gusvare, Kd. gustil. govda “trunk”, ~ dara “trunk of a tree”. goza “nut”, also göza (Malmisanic, 134) NP göz, Ar. Pers. jouz, Kd. g02.

res

güni “blood”, also gön, giin(i) (Hadank, 286; Malmisanic, 137) from

Olr. *wahuni, NP, Kd. etc. xan < *xwahuni. giiréak “kidney”, giircaka ma “my kidney”. Kd. guréik (< *gurd-¢ik), NP gurda < Olr. *wrd-(ka-). hak “egg”. Kd. hek, Np xäya < Oir. *äika- with prothetic h/x.

hangaz “‘handle of plough”. Probably borrowed from Arm. dialect hangäjlz ‘‘ear (of a plough?)” Haq “God” cf. miye Haqi “rain-bow” lit.: “hair of God”, Hag ümare tü darg karo “may God prolong your life”. from Arab. haq “God, right”. har ‘‘donkey”. Baxtiari har, Kd. k'ar, NP xar < Olr. *xara-. hara “dust, mud; earth”. NP xara, Luri xarra, hara, Kd. hiri, Gurani harrä, Sogd. yr'yk/xrik/, Yagnabi yirik, Ossetic äryä etc. (see in detail with literature, Vahman-Asatrian,

89-90).

hardis ‘‘beard”’, cf. also ardis (Hadank, 212), hardisa, ardısa (Malmisanic, 105, 146). harma

“shoulder;

Malmisanic, 23).

forearm”,

also arma,

érmi, armay

147) < Olr. *arma- (see in detail Abaev,

(Hadank,

228;

68-69; Bailey,

has “bear”. NP xirs, Kd. hiré/é, Talisi hirs.- < Olr. *rsa-, *rsa-.

héli “eagle”. NP äluh, in Kd. dialects halo, hala, alö etc. (Mokri, 127128) < Olr. *ardufiya- (Schmitt). hirö “long; wide”; here also hiro “medical plant’ (with large leaves?) (Malmisanic, 157) Perhaps is a borrowing from Arm. hir(ik), the name of a flower. hit ““wet, moist, damp”’, also hita (Malmisanic, 157). Homay “God”, cf. Hömäy gardö “God is great”, also Homa, Humäy (Hadank, 379; Malmisanic, 161). S

hüräk’ “hatchet, axe”. From Arm. dial. hurak‘, standard Arm. urag “1d husk “dry” NP xusk, Kd. hisk. h(y)aga “plain”. tri (1) “tear”. From *asru-, with intrusive -t-, as in Kd. hés(t)ir. ada

iStri (2) “horn”. From *sru-, as in Kd. stri “id”., cf. also iStri (1). jam “glass”. Ar. jam.

GLEANINGS FROM ZAZA

273

jau “barley”. NP jou, Kd. ja, Talisi ya, yav, Za < Olr. *yawa-. jojok “breast of women”; cf. layik jajak maya xö land “the child sucks

his mother’s breast”. Cf. Ossetic jiji, jeje, Kd. éié-ik, Arm. cic, Russian titya, sisya, cycka, German Zitze, etc. This word is probably of ideophonic origin (see Asatrian 1988, 161). jet “plough”. Kd. jor “id.” from juft “a pair”. ji “excrement, shit”, jia ma yanö “I want to shit” lit. “my excrement

is coming”, Xunsäri gi (WIM I, 345,) Kd. gu, NP guh < Olr. *gü0a.-. jin “thrashing-floor”. kakal “fruits of oak-tree”. Kd. kakil “nut, walnut”, Arm. dial. kakal “id.” (see in detail Asatrian 1988, 168). k’al “bald”. NP kal, probably from Olr. *kaurwa-, cf. Av. kaurva-. kalik’ “grand-father”. Kd. kalik “old man; grand-father”. kasa “tortoise”. cf. TaliSi kasa, Baxtiärı käsa-pust, Kd. kusi etc. < Olr. *kasya(pa-).

kala “‘flame’’. k’anj “dress”. Perhaps an Arm. borrowing, cf. Arm. dial. kanjul “shirt”; also Ossetic k‘anjol, Kd. k inj ‘“‘id.”. from German Kamisol, French camisole. koro “bald’’. See also k’al. k’öcaka “spoon, ladle”. Kd. kavéi(k); cf. also Anatolic Turk. kasik. k’öti “ugly”. Here NP vern. kiiti “vagabound, idle, dirty”.

kütok “dog”. cf. Sogd. ‘kwty/akiti/, Ossetic kuj, Kd. kütik, kücjeik (kuc/é < *kuti-), Arm. dial. kuti; (< Iran.?) etc. < Olr. *kuti (cf. Benveniste, 75).

laik “boy, child”. /aiké ma “my child”. Kd. law/(ik), lao, lawo (vocative) “id.” à lamba “lamp”. From Arm dial /amba(r), Classical lampar “id.” Ilka “eye-ball, pupil”; /i/ka c’ami “pupil of eye”. probably of ideophonic origin (cf. Asatrian 1988, 174-75). lözan “the opening, hole on the roof for letting smoke out”. cf. NP rouzan(a) “hole”. i manga “cow’”. Baxtiarı maga, NP mäda-gav. LE) mart’ak ‘‘main beam on the roof’. Kd. mart’ak < Arm. mardak ‘id marx see c'ak'm. Arm. marx “id.” mir ‘‘dough”. Perhaps from *hamir (< Arab. xamir), the first syllable being dropped in preaccentual position; cf. also Kd. havir (with -v- < -M-).

mülacka

“ant,

emmet”,

cf. also

mo/uréa < Olr. *marwica-(ka-).

mörjila

(Hadank,

216),

NP

274

F. VAHMAN AND G.S. ASATRIAN

nak’al “beak’’, nak’ala k’arga ‘‘beak of a hen”. Kd. nikil, NP nuk; cf.

also Sogd. nwk (Henning, 94-95). ostari “star”, FTyo äsman p’are ostariya “The heaven is full of stars”. palösak “thunder-bolt”. Kd. birüsk. p’asing “cat”. Kd. p isi(k). NP (vern.) pist. qülak “hole”. Kd. qui. ryas “thread, yard”. NP ré/isman. sat “milk”, sara sati ‘‘cream”’; cf. also Semnani, Läsgardi sar-set, Sangisari Sat-sar “id.”, See Sotüde, 232, 254; cf. also sat (Hadank, 168). < Olr. *xswipta-, cf. Parth. sift. semaga “threshold”. Kd. sem(ik) “id.”. from Arm. sem. söl(3) ‘‘salt”, see in detail Hadank, 299. $a “black”. Baxiari sah “id.” < Olr. *syawa- (see in detail VahmanAsatrian, 11, 136).

Sir “garlic”. NP sir “‘id.”. < Olr. *sagra-. tüz “sharp”, k’ärd tuza “the knife is sharp”. Kd. 147 “sharp, hot”, NP fiz “sharp”. tik’ “spittle, saliva”. cf. Paëto ru(k), Arm. t'uk’ “‘id.”, (see EVP, 79). üsar(ö) “spring (time)”. NP, Kd. bahar “id.” ;cf. OP. -vähara-, Olnd. vasanata-. The Zaza form seems to be unique in preservation of Old Ind. Ir. -s-: Olr. form was probably *wahdra. see Tafazzoli, ‘‘Absalan”, 43. vast(ii)ri “sickle”, perhaps from vas “grass”,-(< Olr. *wärsa-, Av. varasa-) and tücri (see Morgenstierne 25). | wala

“dust;

ground”.

Kd.

xwali

‘‘ashes”,

NP

xval

“id.” < Olr.

*hwarda-. xey(ö) (Erzinjan) ‘‘mad, insane”. Perhaps from Arm. dial. xev “id

2)

xint “mad”. From Arm. dial. xent‘ (see in detail Asatrian, 1986, 168).

yani “spring, well”. zarn “gold”. zilak “sprout”. Kd. zil(ik) “id.” From Arm. dial. jil (old cil) “id.”

BIBLIOGRAPHY

AND ABBREVIATIONS

Abaev, V.I., Istoriko-etimologiceskij slovar ossetinskogo yazyka, vol. 1. Moscow 1959. Asatrian, G.S., Yazyk zaza i armyanskij. In: Patma-banasirakan handes, Erevan 1986, 2, 168-175. —, Suffiksal‘nij element -I- i nekotorye voprosy fonosemantiki v armyanskom yazyke. In: Patma-banasirakan hendes, Erevan 1988, 2, 160-178. ’

GLEANINGS FROM ZAZA

25

Asatrian-Gevorgian, “Zaza Miscellany”, Acta Iranica 28, 499-509. Bailey, H.W., Dictionary of Khotan Saka. Cambridge 1979. Benveniste, E., Etudes sur la langue Ossete. Paris 1959. Christensen, A., Barr, K., /ranische Dialektaufzeichungen aus dem Nachlass von

F.C. Andreas. Berlin 1937. Eilers, W., Schapka, U. Westiranische Mundarten aus der Sammlung

W. Eilers,

Bd. 1. Die Mundart von Chunsar. Wiesbaden 1976. EVP Morgenstierne. G., An Etymological Vocabulary of Pashto. Oslo 1927. Hadank,

K., Mundarten

der Zaza, Hauptsählich

aus Siwerek und Kor. Berlin

1932. Henning, WB., “Sogdian Loan-words in New Persian”. In: BSOS, pp. 93-106. Hübschmann, H., Armenische Grammatik, I Teil, Leipzig 1897.

1939,

JJ — Jaba, A., Justi, F., Dictionaire Kurde-Frangais. SPb. 1879. Lerch, P., Forschungen über die Kurden und die iranischen Nordcholdäer. Bd. II,

SPb 1858. Malmisanic, Zazaca-Türkge Sözlük. Uppsala 1987. Mokri, M., Nämhä-ye parandagän dar lahjahä-ye yarb-e Iran, Tehran 1982.

1361/

Morgenstierne, G., Indo-Dardica, Wiesbaden 1973. Rossi, A., Brahui and Western Iranian clusters -Sk, -sk. Napoli 1977.

Schmitt, R., “Der ““Alder” im alten Iran”. Die Sprache, Bd. XVI (1970), 63-77. Sotüda. M., Farhang-e Semnäni, Sorxei, Lasgardi, Sangsari, Sahmirzädi, Tehran,

1342/1963.

Tafazzoli, A., “Absälän”, Nasriyya-ye Farhang-e Irän-e Bästän, Vol. 4,1, Tehran, 1345/1967. Vahman, F., Asatrian, G.S., West Iranian Dialect Materials from the Collection of D.L. Lorimer. Vol 1. Materials on the Ethnography of the Baxtiaris. Copenhagen 1987. WIM = Eilers, Schapka.

G.M. WICKENS

RELATIVE EXCELLENCE AMONG CLASSICAL POETS: A JUDGMENT BY ALI DASTI For the last several decades, Ehsan Yarshater has been perhaps the most effective proponent of Iranian culture in the Western world, as well as enjoying great prestige in his homeland. Undeniably, literature—both classical and modern, and the continuity between the two— has been one of his major concerns. The following contribution is offered in recognition of that fact. The late ‘Ali Dasti (ca. 1896-1982), after spending most of his early and middle life (discretely or simultaneously) as a journalist, politician, detainee, exile, diplomat, elder statesman, creative writer, and general

humanist, devoted much of his energy in his later years to a series of highly personal, even passionate studies of major figures in classical Persian literature, i.e., in effect of the great names in poetry. These studies, intended expressly to rescue this “living” literature from what he saw as the dust of ages and the mortmain of the scholastic establishment, created a considerable sensation—mostly favourable— among his contemporaries and juniors. For him, this was no new or unexpected experience inasmuch as practically nothing he wrote ever passed without remark. One striking feature of this part of his oeuvre was that it was produced by an Iranian intellectual who had not—or so it would seem, from a bio-bibliographical situation of more than ordinary confusion, even for Persian literary history—at any time cherished personal poetic aspirations, not so much as those of a private or quasi-private kind. The works nearly all carried Western-style titles, modest or provocative (according as they were perceived by various concerned parties), such as: A Sketch of | A Portrait of | A Moment with | A Trip into | A Look at ..., and so on. There was, however, one

notable exception: the study on Sa‘di was entitled Sa‘di’s Domain (galamrow), and a different tone can—without too much straining—be sensed as maintained throughout the work itself. Dasti is not at all lacking in proper respect for all these great figures, but Sa‘di, for him, dwells in a world apart.

DASTI ON THE CLASSICAL POETS

N

If Daëti was not himself poetically impelled, at least in the strict sense of genre, and while these particular works belong to his later life, it should not be concluded that the great classics were not for him vital sources

of esthetic,

intellectual,

spiritual

and

moral

nourishment

throughout all his long days. His other writings, many and disparate as they are, never lack for apposite poetic quotations and references, even in quite surprising places. Moreover, there exists from his pen an essay in fundamental (if unconventional) poetic evaluation, called “Ferdowsi or Hafez?”, which dates from as early as Azar 1313 (November/ December 1934), when the writer may be seen as having just entered his first intellectual maturity. As so often, Daëti writes from a formulaic construct, whether real or contrived, or a mélange of both: on the one

hand the essay is conceived as an impromptu answer to a periodical which had posed to its readers the question, “Who is the greatest Persian poet?”; and, at the same time, it adopts the technical format of

a literary disputatio between Daëti and a friend (as usual, anonymous) who arrives by convenient chance while the writer is struggling dispiritedly to come to grips with this essentially naive—not to say impossible—problem. But though Daëti seems to need these devices to get him started, once the essay is under way it soon gains life and momentum, mass and cogency, even charm; and, though uneven, it offers judgments and insights that far transcend Persian literary criticism’s usual amalgam of biographical detail and apocryphal anecdote, textual explication, analysis of imagery and metre, and the like. Moreover, in its depiction of a good-natured, but ironical give-and-take with his friend, it reveals

not a little of the atmosphere

and attitudes

of

Persian literary society of the period, as well as facets of Daëtrs own character with all its well-attested paradoxes. Though qualifying it with a short postscript, the author—who was always very sensitive about such matters (see note 1)—still liked it well enough to allow it to be reprinted nearly a quarter-century later without substantial change. Below, I offer a “tight” translation and/or précis of this essay (the various treatments are indicated at each point), accompanied by further comments which would not be in place at this juncture. Technical or other important terminology I have transliterated parenthetically, normally at the first occurrence, but only in those cases where the original (and/or my own version of it) might seem unusual or especially significant. (In one or two cases, a note has been judged necessary.) The friend’s words are introduced by X rather than the monotonous “he said”, and Daëtrs own observations by D".

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G.M. WICKENS

[45, mid-para. 2: I omit some “skirmishing” preliminary remarks: no names of poets have been mentioned so far.] X: Undoubtedly, what has tired you out is the hesitation you must be feeling about choosing between Iran’s two great poets. And you're right, because each of them possesses such qualities that anyone would be at a loss to prefer the one decisively above the other. D: Which two poets do you have in mind? X: What! You mean you imagine that, after all our long association and exchange of literary opinions, I cannot guess which of Iran’s poets you put your faith in? (46) D: I Shall be most grateful if you will enlighten me as to what goes on in my deepest thoughts. X: Hafez and Ferdowsi, of course! D: How do you arrive at that? X: By the fact that, like a lucky charm, you have the works of Hafez by you wherever you may be, so that it is the only book never to be found on your shelves, and the one which has become a very part of your bedroom furnishings. My second piece of evidence is that you and I are both aware that the only poet who has given life to our national soul and, by his epic tales, reminded the sons of this land of its past glory and greatness, so as to breathe into it the spirit of pride and honour and magnanimity which form the essential prerequisite for independence: the only such poet is Ferdowsi. Without a doubt, he is the one who brought Iran to life, the proclaimer of a myriad precepts and moral attitudes more fitted to fortify our national pride and our social fabric than the thoughts and ideas of all our other writers put together. So, given such virtues—which you yourself would assuredly allow to both these poets—should I not guess that your hesitation lies in choosing between them? Unless, of course, your literary convictions have changed. D: What you say is sound enough. But Iran is the land of poetry itself. Just as Greece is the cradle of great philosophy, Palestine the arena for the emergence of prophets, and India the home of mystics (motasavvefin)* and ascetics (mortazin), so Iran glories in great poets like Rudaki, ‘Onsori, Näser-e Kosrow, Kayyam, Ferdowsi, Sana’, Mowlavı, Sa‘di, Anvari, ‘Attar, Farroki(-ye) Sistani, Manücehri, Nezami,

Hafez, Mas‘ud-e Sa’d—and hundreds of other great names, who (relative to these) must stand in the second (47) or third rank. Every one of them has his particular qualities, so that it is absolutely impossible to subscribe to any system of grading among them. How can anyone, »

DASTI ON THE CLASSICAL POETS

279

without hesitation and relying on his own feelings, give just two people absolute preference over the rest? Who can say that Ferdowsi composed* better poetry than Sa‘di, when he was certainly incapable of producing a single gazal to equal those miraculous (mo jeza-äsä) works by the Saik [Sa‘di] in that genre, just as Sa‘di would have been utterly at a loss to produce verses having the majesty, pride, dignity, and epic sweep that leap to the eye from the pages of that immortal work the Sähnäma? Who can say that ‘Onsori wrote bad poetry? Even that favourite poet of yours and mine—he who places “a brick beneath his head, the while his foot’s upon the seven stars’ crown’”’6°—was never able to compose a gasida with such strength and fluency and? brilliant simplicity as are seen in the language of Rüdaki. And how shall we think to leave out of account Mowlavi and Nezami? X: What is the point you are making? D: My point is that the matter is not so simple as you have supposed. But, now that you are here, it behoves us—before declaring a definitive opinion in this area—to argue the topic a little further and to try to clarify it in the hope of seeing who among these bards should receive the title of “greatest Persian poet”. X: Very well. But so that we do not discourse in confused fashion, like scholars in the religious sciences (who, in the course of their argument, jumble all subjects together)®, I believe (48) we should proceed by orderly investigation. That is to say, we should first clarify what is meant by the “greatest Persian poet’’. Secondly, let us be clear about what good poetry is. Thirdly, which of the poets has composed the most good poetry? [For the rest of p.48, Daëti addresses himself to the first point— doubtless with a little irony—by arguing against any idea that the word “great” could possibly refer to the physical size of the author or his works. ] X: All this is self-evident. Nor do I fancy (49) that the term refers to the person who introduces into his poetry more scientific, philosophical or ethical questions than the rest, or who outstrips them from the standpoint of epic grandeur. In other words, the greatest poet is the one who—disregarding various diverse considerations—has written the best poetry. If we concentrate on each of those aspects individually, one of the poets will prove to be pre-eminent in it, while enjoying no superiority to the others in respect of the remainder. I have heard it said that Mr. Forügi? believes one should exclude four Persian poets from the arena of rivalry and competition and only then discuss the

280

rest:

G.M. WICKENS

we

should

remove

from

their

ranks

the names

of Ferdowsi,

Mowlavi, Hafez and Sa‘di, and then deal with the others. This is a sound point of view—for who can really set Ferdowsi above Mowlavi, or the latter over

Sa‘di, or Sa‘di over

the Master!°,

or Hafez over

Ferdowsi? D: From one standpoint, such a view is very commendable; and it becomes even more so, as well as more comprehensive, if we add the name of Nezami to theirs. After all, when it comes to power of imagination, originality of expression and innovative metaphor, this poet too is unique and must take his place in the front rank of Persian poets. However, since we have nothing better to occupy us, it would do no harm to continue our discussion in the hope of discovering what “good poetry” is, and what are its prerequisites. Not everyone thinks like Mr. Forügi, and unfortunately you can find people (even among poets and men-of-letters) who consider Anvari every bit the equal of Ferdowsi and Sa’dı!!. In any case, you do believe that poetry is not merely a statement in metre and possessing a rhyme-scheme?! (50) X: Of course. Many other things must be present in poetry for it to be so called. D: May I ask you to set forth a modicum of these “other things” for my benefit? X: At one level, and in the first place, poetry must have lucidity (fasahat): that is to say, it must not contain words which are outlandish (mahjur) or not readily comprehensible (dur az zehn). Secondly, its syntax and phraseology must not run counter to the accepted principles of literary composition (gavä’ed-e adabi). Furthermore, it may not indulge in obscurity and ambiguity. Thirdly, both its individual words and its mode of phrasing must at once avoid the commonplace (ebtezal) and yet remain familiar (ma’nüs) to the mind. Fourthly, it must eschew superfluous words and particles (horüf) inserted merely to make up the metre. Fifthly, the poet must not allow himself to be constrained to omit words for the sake of the metre or in order to fit in his intended idea. At a second level, poetry must have rhetorical power (balägat). That is to say, by its syntactical excellence and its choice of words, it should

be able to bring its purpose home to the reader’s mind in the fullest and most perfect way. Moreover, it should be devoid of anything difficult to comprehend as to similes (tasbihat) as well as of convoluted and abstruse metaphors and metonymies (este‘arat o kenäyät). All in all, good poetry should be like a bright, clear mirror, which reveals not ’

DASTI ON THE CLASSICAL POETS

281

itself but things seen. It should bring its idea and its point immediately, without effort or reflection, to the mind of the listener!3. Put another way, its words themselves should not—like a mirror that has lost its silvering and become rough—offer an obstacle to the observation of the ideas they express. D: You have forgotten to mention one important item, namely the subject matter of poetry, its ideas. If we postulate that someone observes all these points you (51) have expounded (all of them being, I make no question, perfectly sound), but employs them for such subjects as drinking water, eating bread, or wearing clothes—would such poetry then still be counted as ‘‘good”’? X: Obviously not. In that case, the poetry becomes like the travel diary of the late Mozaffar al-Din Säh 4. D: So, then, in addition to lucidity and rhetorical power, its subject matter must also be good, i.e., the subject of poetry must be itself poetic (se Ti). X: I do not understand what is meant by the last statement. D: The matter is clear enough. Everything is made for some function or other. A car, for example, is to ride in. If a person makes a car— even the most expensive car imaginable—into a piece of drawing-room furniture, would you not agree that he had done something improper? X: That is certainly the case. D: Or if someone introduces physics or geometry within poetry, should we call such poetry ‘‘good”’ simply because physics and geometry are good in themselves, even to the point of being a foundation of world civilisation? X: Certainly not. Hajj Molla Hadi Sabzavärı! tried to put a survey of philosophy (hekmat) into poetry, but it didn’t turn out very well. D: Well, then, what I meant by saying that the subject-matter of poetry must itself be poetic was that it should be poetry in a true sense. And I think that true poetry is (52) in the first place lyrical (gena@’i) and ‘epic, and only after that come poems that are-ethical and philosophical. I imagine that the first human on the face of the globe to utter poetry did not do so in order to train or to educate, or to set down

some

historic occurrence: rather was he expressing his own feeling and the flow of his spirit. His spirit had welled over with some emotion, and what he could not contain—what leapt forth, in fact—that was named “poetry.” The true nature of poetry is this, and this alone. Beautiful fantasies; visions filled with ecstasy and longing; dreams replete with grief and disappointment; overflowing feelings of admiration and won-

282

G.M. WICKENS

der; the deep impression left by the beauties of the body or the spirit; the portrayal of great human qualities: all these are the subject matter of poetry, and are to be found in the spirit of many elect (momtaz) individuals in the human race. But not-everyone has the gift of displaying them to others in the mould of fine utterances, together with the other prerequisites which you yourself have set forth. The great poets are those who do have this gift. Poets of the second rank are those who are endowed with the first gift but lack the second qualification. And the middling ones are those who are deprived of the first but still enjoy the second. For that reason, you may see their utterances as faultless, their syntax and phraseology as without defect: but their poetry makes no sort of impression on you. It neither rejoices you nor makes you sad; it does not excite you, nor give rise to anger, compassion or sympathy. In short, it has absolutely no part in nourishing the emotions. Inferior poets are those who lack both gifts—like many of the recent poets in Iran. Thus, the greatest poet is the one who possesses both gifts (53) in the fullest and most perfect measure. X: In that case, poets in the gasida genre, particularly those who mostly sang the praise of public personages, must be expelled from the company of the great poets. A fine poet, an outstanding figure like “Onsori, for example—who, for fluency of utterance, lucidity of discourse, and ripeness of expression takes his place in the front rank of Iranian poets—must be set wholly aside! D: Obviously so, for he had not in him that spirit of ecstasy and longing, replete with elevated emotions, which is the sine qua non of a poet-—even though he did possess all due skill in composing phrases and sentences and devising new locutions. To write in praise of another human-being, in the hope that he may confer money and a livelihood, is simply beneath the dignity of a great poet: a true poet should take a position directly opposed to such a status. He should be characterized by lofty reserve (mand‘at) and highmindedness, and stand at the highest peak of emotion and noble sentiment in the face of beauty and loveliness. Nowhere else in the world can you find what was a normal practice in Iran and the Arab lands. In Arabia itself, in the age of simplicity known as the Jaheliya, such a usage was not all that common,

for the

tongues of the more sensitive poets of that time spoke for the most part either of the solitary life, or in description of nature, or in the proclamation of moral epigrams. And if they did speak in praise of the people or the tribe, they did so in respect of their noble qualities and ,

DASTI ON THE CLASSICAL POETS

283

virtues, or the estimable conduct of one of their outstanding men. But when the Arabs, by their conquests, became civilized and wealthy, poetry emerged in the form of an instrument of propaganda, and (54) the caliphs and amirs made it a tool to promote their political purposes, so that within a short time it served but to satisfy their selfish and egotistical feelings. Thence, this reprehensible practice spread to Iran. As for ‘Onsori, not only is he in this respect not in the rank of the firstclass poets, but you can even find more poetic expressions and subtle fantasies in the works of Manücehri and Farroki(-ye) Sistäni than in the poetry composed by him. X: According to this, then, one should recognise Mowlavi as the “greatest Iranian poet’’: not only did he never open his lips in praise of anyone,

but

his magnum

opus

is full of all such

matter—ethical,

religious, philosophical, and passionate (‘esqi). And if we leaf through his collected gazals, which he composed in the name of Sams Tabrizi, we become even more aware of the great fact that a blazing longing and an overflowing rapture have brought his spirit into a supreme state of excitement. D: Of course, if poetry were merely poetical and philosophical ideas, Mowlavi would surely be accounted the “greatest Iranian poet.” But, over and above the presence of that spirit peculiar to the poet, poetry must also—as regards its language—possess those essential qualities which you yourself mentioned a few minutes back. In Mowlavrs spirit there roared a veritable storm of feelings and ideas, and he was forever endeavouring to pour this storm forth from within. Accordingly, he never attached any great importance to his use of language, and that is why—in both the Masnavi and the Divan—there-are many weak lines, and syntactical constructions that violate the canons of lucidity. At the same time, there are plenty that can be considered a miracle (ayat)!° of fluency, aptness (‘ozxbat)!7, and lucidity. Unfortunately (55), inferior and mediocre poetry is abundant enough. Therefore, to avoid any presumption to criticize the lofty status of Mowlavi, I think it best to remove him from the company of the poets and place him in the ranks of the philosophers and scholars (faläsefa o mohaggegin). X: So, then,

we

are

obliged

to return

to Ferdowsi,

who—in

the

words of one British writer '®—is the “prophet of the Persian poets.” D: What compulsion do you feel, after Mowlavi, to single out Ferdowsi? X: First, because for use of language, solidity of syntactical construction, and ripeness of expression he does hold a place in the front

284

G.M. WICKENS

rank of Persian poets. Secondly, he began to compose the Sähnäma at a time when Iran—its language, its history, and its national awareness (gowmiyat)—was on the way to dissolution and extinction under the religious and literary influence of the Arabs. By composing the Sähnäma, Ferdowsi restored to the sleeping thoughts of Iranians their forgotten glory and honour, reviving the history of their ancestors in all its pomp and grandeur. And in this way he recreated our national pride, which is the only possible guarantee of a nation’s life and survival. He gave life to the heroic and chivalrous story of Iran, and he preserved Iran’s historic legends from oblivion and obliteration. As he himself says, he laid in verse the foundation for a lofty stronghold, such that the predatory hand of passing days could never stretch far enough to bring it down!°. Thirdly, there are to be found in the Sähnama great moral ideas, models of conduct, political wisdom, epic power, romantic

episodes, innovative similes—and all of these in such abundance as to render it one of the great books of all time. If the /liad and the Odyssey are to be reckoned among the masterpieces of world literature, with Homer the world’s greatest poet, why should we not consider Ferdowsi his equal and the Sähnäma (56) among the books that are immortal? D: I am much obliged for your exposition of a little part of what was in my own mind regarding Ferdowsi. If we look on Ferdowsi as the equal of Homer

and on the Sähnäma as that of the Iliad, not only do

we not utter a vain thing, but rather we make a claim which the world

at large approves. I recall that the English writer Lord Aubrey2°, in one of his works, has a chapter on books, at the conclusion of which he recommends to his readers 100 volumes, taken from earlier ages, that he considers to be basic, universal and everlasting—such as the Divine Scriptures, Homer’s Jliad, Plato’s Republic, and so forth; and among them he cites as immortal Ferdowsi’s Sahnama. This points up the fact that the work enjoys such high esteem not only in the eyes of Persianspeakers like ourselves, but also among people of taste, learning and culture elsewhere. It might well be that if the whole of it were properly translated, most of the world’s intelligentsia would come to share your

taste and mine. However, none of this in any way goes to show that we do not have a poet still greater than Ferdowsi. From what standpoint do we most admire Ferdowsi? Although he does take his place in the first rank of Persian poets with respect to solidity of literary structure, still the Iranian people do not look upon him solely from this point of view. When it comes to lucidity, firmness of style (jazälat) and aptness of phrase, Sa‘di stands ahead of him; and ’

DASTI ON THE CLASSICAL POETS

285

as to harmony (ensejäm) and maturity, the poems of Rüdakï and Mas’üd-e Sa‘d are more readily characterised by such attributes; (57) again, if we speak of imaginative power, the Kamsa of Nezämi is much richer in beautiful fantasies than the Sähnama; Mowlavi outstrips Ferdowsi in rapture and longing, Hafez in nobility and richness of language. We love Ferdowsi because the spirit of patriotism was stronger in him than in any other poet. [Dasti here continues for eleven passionate lines, which largely repeat the argument of “X” ’s second point on p. 55 of the text (and also on p. 46), though Daëti even credits Ferdowsi with actually keeping patriotism alive in modern Iran. Then, as he bluntly says, “‘my learned friend interrupted me’’.] X: Don’t forget that the Sahndma overflows with practical counsels and wise saws, with passages promoting virtues and lofty practices and reviling all vices and basenesses of character—and all that expressed in affecting and forceful language! D: Of course I’m not forgetting! But I prefer to take my stand on the fact that from the day Ferdowsi started work on the Sähnäma, and during the whole time he was engaged with it, he had but one thought in his mind—and that was not a craving for the gold and silver of (58) Mahmid of Gazna. The nature and the motives of this poet from Tis were too exalted for him to stoop to such baseness, while the Sahnäma is too great and majestic a work to be called into being by 30,000 dinars from a fanatical Turkish ruler. The idea dominating his whole existence was to bring to life the history of Iran and to render it immortal in verse-form. For this reason, he could not attach great importance to the various other aspects of poetry. However, his natural ability and his greatness of spirit made up for this lack of concern. In the Sahnama we can find many lines which, for lucidity, rhetorical power, maturity, and

firmness of style are a virtual miracle (mesl-e ejaz)?', well worthy to serve as models for all poets. In this respect he is very similar to the great Mowlavi. Unfortunately, however, his poetry is less homogeneous (yak-dast)

than

that of Mowlavi,

and

his mediocre

and

weak

lines

outnumber his very good ones. X: If we are to reason in this way, then there is clearly no place left for Nezami either. While, as regards his imaginative powers, his innovative similes, and his subtleties of expression he is incomparable, yet— by virtue of the presence of mediocre and weak lines in the Kamsa—one cannot consider him the “‘greatest Persian poet’’?

286

G.M. WICKENS

D: I think this is the case. Although Nezämi must, for the reasons already mentioned, be called one of our greatest poets—for the true meaning of the term ‘‘poet” is fully realised in him— yet, in our own sense of the word, we do have a poet who: stands ahead of him, albeit

he does not approach him in power of fantasy. X: But there’s no one left except Sa‘di and Hafez! D: If you had confined yourself to the first name, we would (59) more easily be able to bring our chat to a conclusion. X: But what about Hafez? D: As with Mowlavi, we must kiss him and set him aside!

X: You mean, you consider Sa‘di superior to Hafez?! D: No, I do not, In Häfez there are present certain aspects that cannot be found in any other Persian poet. In my opinion, the greatest distinction between human beings lies in their freedom of thought, and in poets this takes the form of the free flight of concepts and fantasies. In Häfez, more than in any other poet, you will find this: freedom of thought, amplitude of imagination, detachment from all bonds and dependences, a cool (and almost contemptuous) indifference towards life and to those things that commonly deceive humanity—in short, a proud and rebellious spirit, well acquainted with the realities of existence. [For the rest of this paragraph—some eight lines—this point is repeated in colourful imagery; and the “detached” Hafez is compared to Anatole France—perhaps Daëtrs favourite foreign writer—and to the 10th/11th century Arab agnostic poet Abu’l-Ala’ al-Ma‘arri. Then Daëti continues, in his own “voice,” for practically the whole remainder of the article.] I do not mean that Hafez does not offer beautiful gazals and lines full of rapture and ecstasy. But even there, he has numerous passages which are accounted miraculous?! in the use of the (60) Persian language. However, Hafez’s language is particular and in a class of its own (momtäz): precision in the choice of words and phrases, and fineness of workmanship and lapidary technique (bdrik-bini o morassa‘kari), linguistically speaking—these place his style at a great remove from the current speech of the people??, so that his work does not belong among the common, everyday merchandise of popular literature. For this reason, he too must be put outside coteries and rankings. Unlike Sa‘di, who holds undisputed (mosallam) sway in the realm of discourse. Sa‘di is the god?3 of lucidity and rhetorical power, the lord of the Persian tongue. Were he to make a claim to prophethood, citing ’

DASTI ON THE CLASSICAL POETS

287

as his [proof] miracle his Büstän and the Tayyebät, then—without any doubt—no one would be able to demolish such a claim. Sa‘drs collected works are tantamount to a Persian Qur'an. [Once more, Sa‘di’s comprehensive linguistic merits are listed and raised to the highest power.] Sa‘drs work will forever be a touchstone for the Persian tongue. Whatever

conforms

to

it is sound,

whatever

offends

against

it is

decadent (fäsed) and unsound. The most bewildering fact of all is that—unlike all the other poets, who offer both lean and fat—the work of this great shaikh is entirely homogeneous. Virtually nowhere in his verse or his prose can there be found weak syntactical constructions, convoluted sentences, or any violations of the canons of lucidity. I don’t say they don’t exist, but so far I haven’t come across any—and this alone indicates that if such things are present, they are so rare and unusual as not to be found with any ease. (61) Equally important is the overflowing exhilaration of his temperament in the composition of beautiful gazals, devoid of any trace of the forced, the artificial and the commonplace, such that the endeavours of others, over the course of seven centuries, have never been able to diminish their freshness and their brilliance. Indeed, anyone who has

managed to produce a good gazal or two has made it his boast that his

own poetry is comparable to that of the Saik. [DaSti here argues generally, that the gazal is the most difficult genre of poetry. The gasida normally has a prescribed format, necessitating only an average talent for versifying. Again, the romantic epic is “framed” by the narratives, and draws most heavily on the imagination. But the gazal has virtually no given topic or format: it is pure feeling distilled into pure poetry. He concludes this section as follows:] When one reads Sa‘di’s Divan, he can easily imagine that this great poet was a lover all his life, and one who loved from the bottom of his heart;

this sensitive spirit seems always to have stood before beauty and been deeply affected by it. If, in the gazals of Mowlavi one did not find so many thoughts of mysticism, (62), and had he been able to hold back somewhat the assault of his ideas and feelings, and thus constantly bring forth his words in one mould—flowing, matured, and devoid of all limpness and

weakness—perhaps he might be the only person to stand beside, or even to surpass, Sa‘di. His spirit was certainly in a greater state of excitement, and more blazing and rebellious. Yet it is the very modera-

288

G.M. WICKENS

tion we observe in Sa‘di’s sentiments that makes his whole oeuvre so uniform and such a model of lucidity and rhetorical force. [Daëti here explicitly forgoes a discussion of Sa‘di’s treatment of moral issues—which he characterizes as .comprehensive, straightforward, appropriate, and already very well known. It is possible to see this as a prudish evasion, since many have regarded Sa‘di as vulnerable here, and Daëti is consistently embarrassed by coarseness.] X: So, in your opinion the “greatest Persian poet” is Sa‘di? D: No, not in my opinion, but by the evidence of his collected works. That’s why Sa‘di is the “greatest Persian poet”. (63) POSTSCRIPT Just as the passage of time brings about alarming changes in the body, so it produces transformations in one’s thoughts and insights. This article, written in Azar 131224 (or 22 years ago), is—like most of my writings from times past—to some degree remote from my present thought and taste. Today, without in any way changing my opinions on Sa‘di as there expressed, I prefer Mowlavi and Hafez to all the other Iranian poets: the first I now see as the most “essentially poetic” (as‘ar) of them, and the second—in both language and ideas—as standing without equal, on a pinnacle reached by no other. Accordingly, in the present article a few brief amendments and modifications have now been made, though they do not in the least disturb the thrust of the original.

NOTES ' The periodical in question is Mehr II/7, but I have used the text as reprinted in the collection Säya, 3rd ed. Khordad 1335 (May-June 1956), Tehran, pp. 44-63. This enigmatically titled publication—the term “‘shade/shadow” is, of course, usually protective in Persian, but it may here connote something like ‘‘secondary/insubstantial’’—consists, in this latest recension, of some 400 pages of essays by Dasti, and is divided into literary criticism (from which section comes the present material), sociological opinions, impressions, and translations. It contains valuable and attractive writing, much of it long since

become rare or unavailable in its original form; and it also carries the considered imprimatur of a writer who was all too often given to dropping or even destroying his earlier work with the passage of time and his own changes of view. The question-mark in

the title is supplied by me, both on contextual grounds and because the original linkingparticle is ya, not va-ya. I should perhaps here add a personal note. This material, together with much else relating to Daëti, came to my notice while helping a Toronto Ph.D. candidate, Jutta E. Knörzer, with her dissertation. I have cleared with her that my present article, while

DASTI ON THE CLASSICAL POETS

289

eventually of some possible use to her in her work, does not in any way affect her own

research at present under way. ? One of Daëtrs most constant litanies was that mysticism is both a cause and a symptom of “Eastern” backwardness, and he regarded “India” as a prime example of this malady. It will be observed that he has no compunction in using a peculiarly Islamic (if not strictly orthodox-Islamic)

term

to refer to it in another

culture:

from

his own

humanist, liberal, utilitarian standpoint, it would seem to be all one. 3 Probably, no special importance need be attached to the order, or to some of the inclusions and exclusions, of this list. As to the general argument here, it is obviously both

subjective and relative: several cultures might unconcernedly forgo pre-eminence in philosophy or prophecy, but few (if any) would accept inferior status in poetry—among

them those of Greece, Palestine and India! See also note 10 below. * The Persian originals for ““compose/write etc. are, as usual, terms relating to voiceproduction: “say” (goftan), “sing” (sorädan), and the like. However, Da&ti—only partly culture-bound—does also use “‘make/construct” (säktan), and even occasionally some derivative of nevestan (write). > Again (cf. note 2 above), this term could easily give offence to orthodox Muslims, especially since the revival of fundamentalism in Iran. $ This has the “ring” of Hafez and seems familiar, but I have been unable to locate it. The “seven stars” will be the Pleiades or some similar elevated constellation. The figure connotes the paradox of mystical humility combined with ultimate eminence, as well as an elegant reversal of the normal physical posture, see Addenda. 7 The “and” is supplied by me: the original could be “understood” as reading “of” between the noun and adjective. 8 If this is not merely a general humanist jibe at traditional Islam, it may refer specifically to the fact that the standard ‘theological’? works rarely define their own “posture” or their terms (certainly not with any objective detachment), and tend to mingle ostensibly separate genres such as Qur’anic commentary, Tradition, Law, Logic, and so

on. ° Mohammad ‘Ali Forugi (1878-1942), statesman, literary scholar and philosopher: a veritable “grand old man” of 20th-century Iran in all these areas. 10 This is, of course, Hafez. As is generally recognized, many of the designations for poets and others regularly used in Iran do not correspond exactly with those most

commonly used in the West. I have occasionally modified the original designation. 11 Dastı doubtless supposed that his readers would know whom he had in mind, but it would be, at this late date, both very difficult and of doubtful-value to try to “revive” this topical reference with any precision. 12 This type of simplistic definition was common in early literary commentary and “criticism” in Islamic culture, though it was usually supplemented by such further requisites as: the necessity to make intelligible sense; the exclusion of occurrence by chance; and—by preference—a length of more than one line (i.e. rhyming distich). While later literary commentators evolved more refined criteria as well, these “mechanical” yardsticks were never entirely discarded. > 13 A few lines earlier, Daëti (as ““X’’) uses the term “reader,” contrary to normal practice but familiar enough to him as a prose-writer and a student of Western literature. The figure, immediately following, of the polished mirror as a projector of reality— whether physical, spiritual, or of the imagination—is a constant throughout the Islamic literatures: see my article “Central and Farther Asia in Medieval Persian Literature, with Special Reference to Alexander the Great and ‘China’ according to Nizami,” in Festschrift for Denis Sinor (of Indiana University), forthcoming. 14 A byword for platitudes and general dullness, albeit in many ways unconsciously

revealing

of trends and

attitudes.

See my

article entitled

“Shah

Muzaffar

al-Din’s

European Tour, A.D. 1900”, in Qajar Iran: Political, Social and Cultural Change, 1800-

290

G.M. WICKENS

1925. Studies presented to Professor L.P. Elwell-Sutton, eds. Edmund

Bosworth

and

Carole Hillenbrand, Edinburgh University Press, 1983, pp. 34-47.

15 ca. 1797-ca. 1878. A prolific latter-day philosopher-theologian in the tradition of the Safavid thinker Mollä Sadrä, and very influential in his day. While he did undoubtedly “fancy himself” as a poet, versifying manuals..for mnemonic purposes is an old Islamic tradition. See “Hädi Sabzavärt” in Encyclopaedia of Islam, 1st ed. (ED), 1913-36, (reprinted 1978), Leiden; E.G. Browne, Literary History of Persia IV, 1924 (often reprinted), Cambridge University Press, pp. 436-37; idem, A Year Amongst the Persians, 1893, A.C. Black and thereafter Cambridge University Press, and others under licensed auspices, varying pagination according to edition. 16 Cf. note 5 above. 17 | take this term to be roughly equivalent to the Persian sirinz, which often bears the connotation given rather than that of whatever ‘‘sweetness” might be understood to mean in English literary appraisal. 18 This statement has been made and repeated by several Western scholars and others, and there seems no point in trying for an exact identification of the person “X” refers to. Again, cf. note 5, there is at least the suspicion of impiety in the use of the term “prophet”’. 19 The Persian original is a fair paraphrase of Ferdowsi’s words in the poem itself. 20 This name (no other transliteration seems to be possible) is a favourite reference of Daëtrs. Ms. J.E. Knörzer (see note | above) has drawn my attention to another citation of him in Dasti’s Ayyam-e mahbas. However, neither she nor I have been able to identify such a person in the records of the British peerage. The versatile and eccentric John Aubrey might seem a possible candidate, but various considerations speak against that, especially here: 1) he was, of course, not a nobleman; 2) it seems doubtful that any of his works, except perhaps the Lives, would have been accessible in any form whatsoever to Dasti (and such a list does not appear there); 3) the “‘self-educating” tone of the passage referred to by DaSti would surely belong to the 19th century rather than the 17th (cf. the enormous popularity of cheap editions of the classics in Britain and the U.S.A. in the late 19th and the early 20th century); 4) it is virtually certain that John Aubrey could, at his own early date, barely have heard of the Sähnäma, let alone be familiar with its merits in any real sense. If Daëti has reproduced the name in anything like its real form, it seems perhaps most probable—given a longstanding cultural carelessness in handling foreign first-names and surnames—that the author was a Lord Aubrey “Something,” though, even then, he would hardly be a well-known figure. Once again, we may see the secondhand, eclectic, superficial, and often ill-assorted, nature of many of Dasti’s Western sources. See addenda 21 Cf. note 5 above once more. 22 As against this, there are many places where the poet often strikes an informal, not to say terse and colloquial note, particularly in his opening lines. (This does not imply any lapse into the commonplace or the vulgar: the magic remains.) 23 The term here used is not a strictly Islamic one, but the semi-technical Arabic rabb al-naw', used for such foreign deities as those of Ancient Greece or India (where these are not simply dismissed in pejorative language). However, the next two sentences—while not without precedent in Persian references to Rumi and Hafez—could hardly sit well with strict orthodoxy. The word for “Persian,” here and hereabouts, is the evocative, archaic parsi.

24 Cf. note 1 above: the earlier reference to the date of the original periodical is given as 1313. It is possible that the article appeared exactly one year after Daëti wrote it, but a simple error here seems more likely, since he refers to “22 years” earlier than the Saya, 3rd ed. i.e., 1335-22 = 1313. (Persian publishing lead-time is usually comparatively short.)

DASTI ON THE CLASSICAL POETS

ADDENDA

291

TO NOTES

My colleague Prof. M.E. Subtelny has kindly located this line for me in the Häfez gazal with the matla' rhyming in dowlat-khyahi/dargahi. See Qazvini/Gani ed., N° 488, p. 346, 1.4. Re 20: Since this article was sent to press, Ms. Knörzer has convincingly identified this elusive figure. He was indeed a socially-concerned British peer of the late 19t»/ early 20'P century, his title here being masked by the Persian scriptio defectiva. It is only proper that I should leave the evidence to be presented by her in her

Re 6:

dissertation, due for defense in the latter half of 1990.

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